Secrets
by my love addiction
Summary: He feared coming in with her, but what could he do? She feared having him with her, but what could she do? Amy goes to the doctor for an ultrasound check-up, and Ricky tags along. But what are the secrets they aren't telling each other that makes the ultrasound not an enjoyable one? They don't want the secrets to come out, but they always do, one way or another. AU Rated T
1. Means Everything To Me

**Hey, guys…it's me again. Here's a little something I thought of after I went totally bezerk and watched all episodes of Secret Life. I just really hated how Ricky didn't care about Amy at all. It pissed me off a lot, so I thought I should make something that would make the Ramy fans a little happy.**

**Takes place during the first season, as you'll probably find out. I absolutely **_**swear**_** this is only a one-shot. So, please; do not expect more from this story. I just wanted to publish it because the idea popped into my head as soon as I finished the first season, and I needed to get it out there.**

**Reviews are welcomed, but please don't ask for more because I won't make more. Okay…maybe I'd make more if people poured their heart and soul into the reviews, just begging for more, but otherwise I need to focus on my other story until that one is finished. Maybe then I would finish this one and add more to it.**

**Third person POV. Majorly AU**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Secret Life of the American Teenager. *sob***

His eyes avoid hers as they sit across from each other, shifting uncomfortably in the waiting chairs. She sees them as some sort of comfort; the safe harbor where nothing bad would happen to her. He sees them as bad omens, things that lead to something horrible.

He thinks the chairs, the room, and the whole damn hospital are bad omens. Who wants to be at a hospital? He sure as hell doesn't. And by the look on her face neither does she.

She bites her lip as she stares at the ground, wishing her mom was there with the two of them, but unfortunately, she was stuck in traffic and they had gotten to the hospital before the usual afternoon rush started. And of course the doctors had to be running a little behind, so they were forced to wait longer than they should have. She felt embarrassed and a little guilty as they sat there, saying nothing to each other.

To her deepest embarrassment, though, she finds herself actually rubbing her hand soothingly along her distended stomach. It's not very big; she's about four and a half months in. But the movement isn't subtle enough for him not to notice. She didn't see him looking at her, more like felt his eyes trained on her.

She looks up at him and sees his gaze held firmly on the evident hill jutting out right below her ribcage, jaw locked in place. The shirt she wears is just a smidge too small, accenting the whole dimension of her baby bump and making him cringe a little at the sight of it. It's her hand on the bump that makes him feel like killing himself, makes him feel like he shouldn't even be on the planet.

And so he raises his eyes – just anywhere to get away from the guilt that was eating him from the inside out – and meets her hazel ones. Even though they look uncertain and weak, they penetrate his soul in a way so forceful, it's the main reason why he chose her above all the others at the Band Camp.

She looks away quickly, and his stomach squirms with regret and guilt, making him feel like he has to puke just to get the uncomfortable emotions out of his system. Finally, the doctor comes into the waiting room, and calls her name softly. A small part of him thinks the name's so pretty…_she's_ so pretty. But when she stands up, he's snapped out of his thoughts and stands up, too.

The doctor gestures for the two of them to follow her and she goes first, him trailing behind her reluctantly. He still is undecided about coming in the first place, and he realizes that it's too late now. Her mother's not even at the hospital and he's the only one that came with.

She automatically sits down on the bed sitting in the center of the room next to some technical machines that he's sure he would break if he got too near them. He panicked mentally that he might lash out and do something stupid if he didn't get out of the place soon.

She eyes his jerky movements and twitches with a small sliver of interest. He's so not like himself; not like the usual smooth and cool guy she met at Band Camp. His eyes fly everywhere across the room, sometimes catching the doctor's as she spoke to them about the process they – meaning her – would go through soon, but they sometimes caught hers. And whenever they did, she knows they are the main reason why she let him choose her.

The doctor, with a big smile on her face, tells her to lie back, and he can feel the vomit coming up his throat. He doesn't want to see his kid. He doesn't want to see the life he made out of need, not love. He doesn't want to see the child he can't be a father to. But he finds himself slowly approaching her side as she stretches out on the beige mattress, shirt up high enough to expose her stomach region.

He doesn't bother looking at it. He only looks at her, because he thinks it's probably his only chance to look at her without the pressure of Adrian, or Ben, or anybody else's judgmental eyes. He's attracted to her, no doubt about that. That's another reason why he chose her. Lucky for him, she chooses to close her eyes as she waits for the doctor to prepare everything for the ultrasound.

His own eyes trace over every single delicate feature she has and he kicks himself mentally.

_How could I ruin something so good?_ he thinks to himself.

Her hair looks so soft. He realizes he never ran his hand through it once while they…Her eyelashes are long. He realizes they never got to brush up against his cheek while they…Her arms and legs are skinny, but built sturdy. He realizes they never wrapped around him once while they…Her fingers are small, with nails nearly bitten down to the cuticle. He realizes they never raked through his own hair while they…He squeezes his eyes shut, his hands forming fists, the tendons popping out.

She feels oddly calm despite the situation. He wasn't with her the last time, and she had been extremely nervous then. But she realizes she's not nervous at all and finds it actually soothing to have him with her. She realizes that he's going through the same thing and experiencing this with him was something that you could relate to. Not that they needed to relate together in any way besides having the same kid.

The doctor's voice makes her eyes pop open, only to see him standing there rigidly, eyes shut tight and hands balled into fists. She looks at him for a beat longer before she smiles kindly at the doctor as she tells her that she's ready to proceed. The doctor walks her through it, explaining everything as she goes.

When the doctor squeezes the coupling gel onto her stomach, she gasps a little at the coldness and grinds her teeth together. Did they really have to refrigerate it? She notices that his hands are no longer in fists since one is leaning against the mattress above her head and the other lingers down by her right hand. His stance is a little more relaxed, but she can tell he's still nervous.

So she takes his hand and laces her fingers with his. He looks down at her in surprise, but doesn't say anything. She barely feels the transducer as it touches her fragile stomach because she looks up into his dark brown eyes. She tries to smile at him – just a small one – but it sort of feels like a grimace. He doesn't make any move to smile, or remove his hand. He just stares down at her.

The doctor waves the transducer around a few more times before she gives a soft "Ahh" and points to the screen.

His eyes don't look away, but hers do. She needs to see her baby again. The first ultrasound was one she didn't really care about, but as she grew with her baby, she understands that this life needs her, and she cares about it so much. And when her eyes land on the small black and white screen, they fill with tears. There her baby is.

The doctor says the baby is perfectly fine, then asks if they wanted to know the gender. She turns her head to look at him again, forgetting that he was still there. As soon as she saw her baby, she sort of went off into a world of her own. The look on his face, the crumpled look of anguish, guilt, sorrow, and pain, makes her shake her head no.

He looks ready to cry.

The doctor wipes off her stomach and each gives them their own sheet of paper with a picture of the ultrasound. She takes hers graciously, happy to just have another piece of the baby with her, while he takes his jerkily, almost robotically. She doesn't notice. They leave after about fifteen minutes of scheduling the next ultrasound. He still doesn't say anything.

And it's only in the car when they realize they've been holding hands the whole entire time. So he untangles his fingers from hers and clamps both hands onto the steering wheel tightly, jaw locked again. He doesn't say anything the whole ride to her house.

And she leaves him in his silence, trying to shut the car door as quietly as possible without so much as a "Good-bye". She runs into the house, not stopping to check out the sunset like she would have done if none of it would've happened.

But it did.

She doesn't stop running until she's in her bedroom, and when she closes the door, she leans against it, sliding slowly but tortuously down the white wood until her butt hits the floor. She puts her head on top of her knees and cries until it's dawn the next day.

Little does she know, that's exactly what he did, too.

**How was it? I liked it, and on second thought, I might add more. I have some thoughts on the birth so…you'll just have to see.**

**-TeamSwiss737**


	2. Wish and Don't Tell

**Okay, here's a continuation of the one-shot I did. I just couldn't hold it in any longer and besides, I finished my other story. It was just the right time to end it and I never said there would be a happy ending to that story, so…yeah. I'm moving on to this one now, and I really hope you guys like it. Notice I didn't put 'one-shot' in the summary for this story. And thanks to the four people who reviewed!**

**Once again, third person POV. Definitely AU. Tell me if I should switch POVs, too. Like maybe to Amy's or Ricky's.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

She made copies of her picture multiple times, as she cried last night. A picture for her bedroom, a picture for the fridge, a picture for her locker, and a picture for her grandma, Mimsy. She stares at the copy that sits taped to the inside of her locker door, thinking about yesterday and the ultrasound.

She could barely drag herself to school today. Her eyes were so tired that they sagged as if fifty pound weights were on the both of them. She kept bumping into people because she couldn't see very well, and bruises had appeared on both shoulders from all the contact they had to endure.

It was only the third class of the day and she couldn't take it any longer. She avoided her friends and pretty much everyone else as they tried to catch her weary eyes when she made her way down the hallway. She didn't want to talk to anyone; all she needed was some sleep.

The nurse's office is small with white walls that nearly blind her. The nurse, sitting at her desk, gives her a look over when she walks into the cramped room.

"What do you need, sweetie?" the nurse asks, sympathy and pity tainting her voice. She sees the nurse's eyes flickering to her stomach every few seconds.

She looks at the nurse sharply, irritated that she couldn't see that she was practically dead on her feet. She feels almost like collapsing just right here on the ground, just anywhere so she could get some sleep. Sleep never came to her last night or early this morning, even after the long hours of endless crying.

"I just didn't get very much sleep last night, and I've got a headache. Can I lie down for a while?"

The nurse nods and gestures with her head to a small room across from her desk. Two mattresses sit against the walls opposite each other, leaving barely any room between the two of them for somebody to walk through.

She walks into the small room with a small spring in her step because she finally gets to sleep. She's too tired to think about anything but sleep, and she wishes she had stayed in bed the whole day, but she knew that staying there would only painfully remind her about yesterday, and that was the one thing she couldn't get her mind off of.

But she stopped herself before she could think about what happened at the doctor's office as she gently crawled onto the bare mattress and curled herself into a ball, looking as if she was protecting her stomach. The nurse came over to shut the door, and suddenly, everything was dark.

~SLAT~

The last bell startles her awake. She sits up quickly, then gingerly lies back down as the blood rushes from her head. She waits until the room stops spinning before she opens the door and walks into the nurse's office again. The nurse is no longer there, so she leaves anyway, making her way to her locker. Her eyes aren't nearly as tired as they were before, but she wishes they were so she wouldn't have to see everybody's stares on her.

When she gets to her locker, she opens it silently. She grabs her books and bag, thinking she'd just make up the homework from today tomorrow. Before the locker shuts, her ultrasound picture falls out. She sighs and leans down to pick it up, only to withdraw her hand back quickly as someone passes close by her, stepping on her favorite piece of paper.

She looks up to glare at whoever stepped on it, but finds no one. They left in a hurry, no doubt. She picks up the picture reverently, trying to dust off the dirt smudges and shoe-marks. Satisfied with all that she could do, she tapes it back into her locker before shutting it. She turns around to leave, but stops short when her eyes are captured by someone's far down the hall.

She sucks in a deep breath as he looks at her, the same look on his face he had after they saw the ultrasound. That look of anguish. She knows he watched her the whole time, judging by the pain in his eyes. What's his deal, though?

He turns away, disappearing into the thick crowd of students marching their way down the hallway and out the door.

He ducks his head as he walks next to a small girl who he thinks is a freshman. He wonders if she knew her well. Maybe they were friends in middle school, but now they're not because of what _he_ did. He knows she's watching him, but doesn't say anything; he only puts one foot in front of the other so he can get away from this hell-hole. Why did he even go to school today in the first place?

He stalks off to the parking lot as quick as possible, passing Adrian without so much as a glance.

As she watched him leave the school, she thinks about how he's been off since he offered to drive her to the ultrasound. It was a surprise in the first place when he had asked and an even bigger surprise when she had agreed. And then he wouldn't talk at all. This sort of scared her; silence from him was something people didn't normally get used to. He was always the center of attention for pretty much anything, whether it was breaking up a couple, or hooking up with the latest girl.

And now he was the center of attention for being a sixteen year-old dad.

Her mom is waiting for her a block from school, like she asked this morning. When she opens the door, Anne greets her warmly, smiling at her sadly and asking how school was.

"Fine," she replies while looking out the window, rubbing her stomach, a habit she picked up not that long ago. She always rubbed her stomach whenever she thought about him. It was something she couldn't really control either; it just sort of happened.

"What are you thinking about?" her mom asks, not taking her eyes off of the road.

It takes a while for her to answer, and when she does, her hand continues to make small, comforting circles on her stomach.

"Just thinking about what it would be like if things were different."

Her mom doesn't say anything to her for the rest of the ride and neither does she. What's more to say?

Just like the night before, she heads straight for her room, shutting the door quietly, then sliding down it once more. She doesn't cry; the tears just don't come. She rests her head against the door and stares at the ceiling, cradling her stomach with one arm.

What if things had been different? She snorted. She could only dream about that.

She stays in her room for the rest of the night, trying to catch up on the sleep that she had missed. Her mind is troubled and doesn't seem to want to shut off. It's the same with his mind: he can't get her, her stomach, or the ultrasound out of his head. He went straight to his room when he got home, avoiding Margaret. He sat on the bed with his head in his hands, just to keep them from shaking.

He was scared, but he knew he shouldn't be. He was freaking Ricky Underwood, and Ricky Underwood was never afraid of anything. He just needed a distraction; something to give his active brain a rest. Something that would require little thought. So he called Adrian, because she was the first number he saw when he went through his phone restlessly.

She answers on the first ring with a soft purr in her voice. He tells her he'll be over there in seven minutes. She says to hurry.

So he shuts his phone closed and bounds up the stairs, ignoring Margaret's and the Doc's protests. He just needed a reliever, and no one was going to stop him. He wanted something, and that was final.

~SLAT~

Ben calls eight times, but she doesn't answer all of them – only the first two. He inquires about how she's feeling and how the ultrasound was. He apologizes for not being at school because his aunt died. She forgives him and Ben tells her those three words she secretly has come to dread.

"I love you."

She rubs her stomach again during the pause before she says anything.

"Me, too."

Then she hangs up because she can't take it anymore. He calls back about ten minutes later, when she's almost asleep. She growls into the phone and can hear the hurt in his voice when he answers back. She knows she should feel bad, but she just needed a reliever, and no one was going to stop her. She wanted something, and that was final.

Her sleep is dream-free at first. Nothing but pure, endless, and dark bliss. But then colors start to appear and images fly in and out of her mind before she even has time to comprehend them. When she wakes up, she first notices how wet her cheeks are, then how cold she is. She sits up in her bed, looking around her dazedly because the dream seemed so real.

She believes she was crying while tossing and turning in her bed, because the blankets are on the floor and her eyelashes are coated with tears. She had a good reason to have been crying and moving around while she slept. She had had a nightmare.

She wipes at her cheeks and eyes furiously, angry with herself for getting so emotional, even during a dream. When she can see straight, she glances at her clock. It's 1:16 in the morning. She had been asleep for eight hours straight. Her stomach grumbled, and she wondered if there were any leftovers from dinner.

He glances at the clock. It's 1:17 in the morning. He hadn't had sleep since two days ago. He untangled himself from Adrian as she snored, then threw on his clothes as quick as possible, darting out the door silently so as not to wake her. He would have to deal with her wrath in the morning, but at the moment, he really didn't care. He hated sleeping at someone else's house. So that's why he always left.

It was a silent drive back to the house, but he'd prefer it be loud, something that could keep his mind from talking to him. As he opens the back door, keys jingling in his hand, he's thankful that he can finally – _finally_ – shut his mind off for the night. He grabs a handful of grapes before leaping down the stairs to his room, popping them into his mouth as he goes. He doesn't bother showering or changing; he only falls into his bed, shoes still on, and sleeps like a rock until Margaret wakes him up the next morning.

Her mother gets her up around ten a.m. later that day, whispering that she deserved some peace and quiet. She tries to fall asleep after her mother leaves the room to get to work, but her mind's gears are already turning. She can't stop thinking now. The first thing she spots is the ultrasound. It's not hard to spot; it's black and white in a sea of orange, green, pink, and yellow. She wonders idly where _his _ultrasound picture is.

He tucks the ultrasound into his front pocket before hurrying out the door. He felt like skipping but somehow knew that Margaret would call in to the school and ask if he was there or not. So he didn't argue when Margaret shook him awake and told him breakfast was waiting for him upstairs.

He heard disappointment in her voice, as if she knew exactly where he had been last night and what he had been doing, and especially what hour he had gotten home at. He didn't talk to her at all while he ate and while she sipped her coffee before going to work. The Doc was already gone. He didn't say good-bye, just left his plate at the counter, grabbed his keys, and left.

At ten a.m., he's already been to his first two classes and onto the next. The ultrasound feels like a lighter in his pocket, burning a hole through it. He doesn't know why he hasn't already done it yet, but he knows that he has to do it soon. So he skips class half-way through, asking for the bathroom pass when both he and the teacher know that he won't be giving it back anytime soon.

The hallways are completely empty when he opens his locker. It's a mess; books tossed carelessly into them, papers ripped and torn scattered at the bottom of it, pencils and pens sticking out of notebooks and weird places where they shouldn't be. He's got some ductape sitting in the back of his locker, and he searches for it sort of desperately. He almost smiles when his hand, moving around blindly, feels the smooth surface of the tape and extracts it from the black-hole that he calls his locker.

He rips a small piece off of it since it's getting kind of low, then gently takes the sacred picture out of his pocket, careful not to rip or crease it. He unfolds it slowly, smoothly, and then it's staring him in the face.

There's no way of telling if it's a boy or girl, but just seeing the small figure makes his eyes sting and he has to blink a few times before the sting goes away. He doesn't know if he loves it – why should he? Like he told himself before, he made it out of need, not love. Why should he love something he created not because he wanted to create it – but because it happened on accident?

But it wasn't its fault. It was his fault – not hers, not the baby's, but his. He already knew that she loved it. But could he? He shouldn't – and he didn't really know how she would feel if he _did_ love it. So he shakes his head slightly and places one edge of the ductape on the picture, then tapes the other edge to the inside of his locker. It's placed just right so that each time he opens his locker, he'll see it.

Secretly, he likes to look at it. He made it, you know, and he takes a little pride in it, even if it was more of a 'whoops'. He closes his locker after staring at it for what felt like eternity. He doesn't look to see what time it was; he honestly didn't care. He leans against his locker, using the cool metal of it to sooth the ache in his neck.

He tries not to think about anything, but as his thoughts go on and on, he soon finds himself on the floor, head in his hands, much like the position he was in last night.

He felt different – more serious. He wasn't as cool as he used to be, even if he was all by himself or with Margaret. It's like he was in another world, one where things sort of drove him mad and he couldn't contain it unless he stared blankly into space. He was put into these trances at least once a day – or however many times he saw _her_. As soon as he saw her, his thoughts went out of control.

He learned to at least keep himself composed and put on an indifferent sort of look while he sat there, staring, but on the inside, he was crying, screaming, throwing things. Thinking of ways to get out of it. But he couldn't. Because that's not how Ricky Underwood is. That's how his father was.

And Ricky Underwood would never be his father.

She wonders if he even wants to be a father. She's thought about this a lot. What would he do? Would he back away, never to be seen of except at school? Would he help out? Would he just send checks in the mail for child support? Would he go to court for custody? Would she get her baby taken away by him?

These are the thoughts that keep her awake at night, tossing and turning while crying uncontrollably. She doesn't know what will happen after her stomach deflates and she's holding her baby in her arms in a hospital bed. Will he be standing next to her, gazing down adoringly at their baby? Or will he be standing outside, not able to take the pressure? Or will he just not be there at all? There are so many questions she has, but none can be answered by someone other than him – and she knows he's indecisive to start.

She wishes – extremely secretively, of course – that he is there…when it happens. She wants him to be smiling at their baby with her. She wants him to wrap his arm around her, and press his lips to her head. She wants him to whisper "I love you" in her ear. She just wants him to be there for her. She just wants someone – _anyone_ – to be there for her, besides her mom and sister.

And he seemed like the best choice. She wants him to be a good father, but with his reputation, she can't seem to count on him. And it scares her, the prospect of doing the family thing alone. Sure, she would have her mom and sister, but it'd be nice to have someone with her in her shoes.

And a part of her doesn't want to let him go.

A part of him doesn't want to let her go.

He would have to let her go if he bailed. And he just doesn't think that he could do that.

She knows she should hate him for what he did, but she was at fault, too. She had agreed. And a few more minutes was all it took. But there were the hidden emotions that she knows she has to face sooner or later. Ben wasn't like him. He took her breath away without trying – even before all of..._it_ happened.

He knows he shouldn't have feelings for her. He made her life hell, now, so he should only be feeling guilt and sorrow, but there were the hidden emotions he knows he has to face sooner or later. Adrian never gave him that sort of…tingle up the spine whenever he saw her. He groans as he thinks about it, the sound coming out muffled from his hands.

She groans as her mind digs deeper in the 'Ricky Category'. She admits to having feelings for him before she knew she was pregnant. Even after the 'Incident'. How could you _not_ like him? He was good-looking, like _very_ good-looking. He had that lopsided smile that made her feel like smiling. His voice was soothing and calm most of the time. And oh, man…his _body_- isn't the point.

She sighs as she picks at the edge of her pillow, still lying in her bed, the covers pulled up to her nose.

Why did things always have to happen to her? Why?

**Yay, I did it. I made a continuation. I hope to make more because I'm really liking this. This chapter, though, wasn't as good as the first. Sure, it's longer and it goes in-depth, but it just isn't very short and sweet. There's a lot of detail in this chapter and the last chapter was more of an 'inside the thoughts' chapter. I tried making this chapter like it, but it got more like that towards the end of the chapter. So sorry if you didn't like this chapter. I don't blame you.**

**Thanks again for all of the reviews. Criticism is healthy and compliments are cool, but it's okay if you don't have anything to say. I understand.**

**Thanks,**

**TeamSwiss737**


	3. Some Kind of Connection

**Okay, so last chapter I didn't particularly like… I hope to make this one like the first chapter, but I don't know. I want it to be as long as the second chapter, but I'll try to make it along the lines with the first one.**

**Please remember to comment through a review if you'd like to tell me something, and if you think there might be a big event that I should write about, do tell.**

**Third person POV. AU all the way, but I wish it was real. *sigh***

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

Adrian's face is the color or Mars when he sees her the next morning. She was in his way as soon as he stepped through the door, spitting out swearwords in Spanish. He has to admit that it shocked him a little, but he stands his ground, bracing himself for whatever she threw at him. At first, she had given him the cold shoulder yesterday, and he had appreciated it greatly. But now she was exploding in front of him like Mt. Kilauea.

She watches the dark-haired girl yell at him from her locker, on hand in the process of getting her book, the other brushed against the ultrasound comfortingly. She did this whenever someone pointedly looked at her. It's causing a scene, the small girl yelling at him, but she sees that he doesn't seem concerned about the girl at all. After another moment, he walks away, all without saying a word.

He had to walk away. She was just making a big scene out of nothing. Adrian should have known by now that he couldn't stand being at someone's house other than his own. It just didn't give him the comfort unless he was in his own bed while he slept. He shoots a glare at some scrawny kid who catches his eye as he stalks off down the hall. Let them all stare, but they would never, ever get to him.

She wonders what the girl had to say. He seems unfazed as he just shoves his hands into his pockets and walks down the hall like everything was perfectly okay. How could he do that? How could he just act like his life wasn't going down-hill every single day as her stomach got bigger and bigger and bigger every single day?

He wrenches open his locker, only to have his books fall out. He groans and picks them up one-by-one, shoving them back into his locker with unnecessary force. Damn Adrian to make him in an even worse mood as soon as he got to school. He didn't need her jealousy and anger to make a scene, either. Now not only is he going to be talked about constantly, _she_ saw the whole thing.

Already she hears whispers of what the fight was about. She can hardly believe any of them, but judging by both of their backgrounds, she can make a pretty good guess. Her heart sinks a little. She subtly places her thumb to her lips, and then presses it to the picture before shutting her locker and looking around quickly to see if anyone noticed. It was still embarrassing, even if she loved that picture a lot.

His picture stares him in the face. He forgot about it overnight. Again, the prickling sensation in his eyes starts up again and he swears under his breath while blinking as fast as he can, making sure to duck his head.

She moves uncertainly down the hall where his locker is. She can see him still there, head bent down, hand gripping the locker door tightly. She watches as he stays like that for another moment, then picks his head up again, only to stare into his locker subconsciously. When she's directly behind him from across the hall, she tries to see what he's staring it. It's apparent as soon as her eyes lock on the small square of white and black.

He hears something behind him, almost like a sharp exhale. He spins around, then exhales sharply himself. She stands across the hall leaning against the wall of lockers opposite his own. She looks at him like she's lost and unsure of what to do or say. She shouldn't say anything. Don't ruin it for him.

She's trapped now. He spotted her, and now she can't even think straight. He's got her locked in his…presence, something she can't get out of soon. She should know. It's another reason why she agreed.

He uses this time while they are off in their own world, just the two of them, to look at her again. It takes all of his willpower to fight down the urge to run to her and run his hands through her hair like he should have. To come so close to her, their eyelashes would be touching each other, like they should have. To hold her in his arms so she can wrap her arms and legs around him, pulling their bodies closer together, like he should have. To kiss her so passionately she'll tug on his hair just to tell him she needs to breathe, like he should have.

So all he can do is just look. Look, and try to keep from crying or screaming without stuffing his fist into his mouth.

Her eyes follow his own as they look over her, from top to bottom. She notices they hesitate on her stomach, then suddenly continue their trek up her body, and back down again. Why? Why should he be looking at her like that? What does he still see in her? She's pregnant with his _baby_, for crying out loud! Why does he have to go and give her the wrong message, lead her on as if he still cares about her and still likes her? Still wants her?

She looks conflicted when his eyes finally gaze into her own. They show hurt, and regret, and he squirms a little from looking at her so lustfully.

She hopes he doesn't see the lust in her eyes, and the want, and the passion.

He wants her to have the same lust in her eyes like he does.

She takes a step closer to him. Maybe she does want him to see what she wants.

He takes a step closer to her. Did he just see…?

Her eyes never leave his as she tries to send a message. She was being risky, giving out her emotions so carelessly when there was a big chance that he didn't feel the same way as she did.

He hopes that she doesn't understand that he is feeling things for her that he shouldn't be, but he takes yet another step forward. What the hell was he doing?

Her feet shuffle towards him a tiny bit, yearning to break into a run before wrapping themselves around his back. Her fingers twitch and her lips quiver. Something stirs inside her stomach.

She's twitching; he can see that plain as day. She's nervous. Again: what the _hell_ was he doing?

There's a fluttering in her stomach that she can't identify. She knows she's only fifteen and shouldn't be having thoughts like that, but she did have sex after all. Nobody could blame her anymore.

Finally, he just can't take it anymore. He takes a look around the hallway. Somehow, in all of the heat of the moment, the students disappeared to their classes, leaving the hallway empty. Perfect.

He looks away, and she's free of his gaze, but not quite free of _him_ completely. Still a prisoner to his presence. She notices the hallway is deserted. It's just the two of them. Her legs are shaking like mad.

He closes the distance between the two of them until her distended stomach grazes the edge of his navy-blue V-neck. He doesn't know what he should do, besides brush her bangs aside so her hair doesn't get in the way of him staring into her eyes. Her perfect, beautiful eyes. And like he thought, her hair is so soft and silky. It feels good against his hands. He always liked light eyes, ones that were clear and sincere. His dad's eyes had always been dark and brooding. Nobody could know what would come from them. Adrian's eyes are dark. He's never really liked them, either.

She ducks her head a little, blushing slightly. She clears her throat once before looking back up at him again.

"I want to thank you for taking me to the doctor, the other day. I never got the chance to," she whispers.

He nods. Why would she say that? It's the least he could do besides trying to help pay for the medical bills.

"It was nice of you," she whispers again, staring at the dip in his shirt's neckline.

"I wanted to do it, anyway. I have my picture in my locker, you know," he says, jerking his head in the direction of the wall behind him.

She nods. "Yeah, I saw it." She gives a shaky laugh. "I have mine in my locker, too."

He actually smiles a little, brushing her bangs out of her eyes again as they fall into her face once more. She blushes again. And then it's silent. They stand there, stomachs touching, foreheads a mere six inches apart, breaths mixing together. They're lost in each other's eyes and aroma, and they forget about why they aren't together.

All they can think about is each other. All they know is that they want each other – badly.

But should they?

She ducks her head again, trying to breathe deeply when her chest is heaving from lack of air. She sees that he's calm, but his breathing his labored and forced. He's just as nervous as she is. And she needs to ask him something. It's the perfect time to ask him; they're all alone.

"R-Ricky?" she says breathlessly.

He stops breathing for a moment, and remains silent. She takes it as a sign to go on.

"Do you think…you'll be there for when…the b-baby comes?"

She fears that she's scared him, and he won't answer. But soon his voice fills her ears again.

"What do you mean?" he murmurs.

"I don't know," she says, frustrated, tossing her head a little. Stupid emotions going up and down all the time. He pushes her bangs back once again, but his hand lingers on the side of her face, thumb keeping her bangs in-check.

"I mean, do you even want this? I guess you have no choice but…now that you're stuck with it, do you think you might actually…care about it? Sometime, at least?"

He exhales through his nose. He should have known that she wanted answers. He needed them himself. And this particular question was one that he had pondered over for a long time. But staring into her eyes gave him the courage to finally speak out loud. As much as he didn't want to be a dad, he couldn't help but think that it was happening to him and he needed to accept it. And accepting it didn't seem so bad as it did before.

He swore to himself that he would be, if he ever was, a better dad than his father was. He wanted to prove that he was nothing like his father, and being the best dad he could be was a landslide difference from being exactly like his father.

So…

"If you want me to."

She stares at him incredulously. He's joking. He's lying. He's just trying to get on her good side because maybe he finds her attractive at the moment.

"You mean it?" she asks quietly.

He nods, no emotions crossing his face. Just purpose.

"Unless you feel uncomfortable with me being there, I _will_ be there. Don't tell anyone, but I kind of want to be there." He finally smiles a little playfully as he says this and her mouth falls open slightly. The corners of her mouth go up and suddenly he's hugging her.

He brings her head into the crook of his neck and wraps his arms tightly around her small waist. It's still small, even though there's a small balloon separating them from being flushed against each other. He likes having her there. Adrian and him were never intimate like that before – they more just…got to it.

He likes the love that she gives him, even if she's not trying to give him love. Just the action comforts him in a way that no matter what Adrian did, he'd never feel more loved than standing in her embrace. Her slender arms can barely wrap around his back, but he appreciated her trying all the same.

They broke apart after what felt like long time, not really caring about the class they've so far skipped. Now it was his turn to say something.

"Amy…I'm sorry." His voice breaks, and he ducks his head. "I can't tell you how guilty…I feel. I didn't know and I'm sorry. Really." He can't say anything. What's more to say? He's at a loss for words, because he can't seem to apologize enough.

"I'm not," she says truthfully after a long pause. He looks up at her disbelievingly, his eyes asking the silent question: _why?_

"I guess it's a mom thing, but as I'm growing with him, loving him comes second-nature to me. You can't help it. And I don't regret it – at least not anymore."

He raises an eyebrow. "Him?"

She blushes and he smiles. "I don't know, I just call the baby a 'him' a lot."

His smile fades slightly until he's gazing at her, lips turned up just enough so that he's smiling at her slightly. It's like he's oozing love towards her, but she knows it's not true. She thinks it's just the light. But that doesn't mean _she _doesn't love _him_. So she surges forward, taking him in her arms again.

"Thank you, Ricky."

As soon as her breath tickles his ear, he shivers, and wants to lean away from her so he can kiss her endlessly. Why was he feeling this way? Why couldn't he just get away from this girl? He always felt so guilty whenever he looked at her, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave her alone. He just couldn't.

So he won't.

They bid each other good-bye for the rest of the day, and for the first time in a long time, she feels relieved. Peaceful. Content.

And so does he.

**End of chapter three! Hope you liked it. More to be written soon, but I did just add to chapters in one day, so be prepared if it might be a couple of days. I put a lot of thought into the Ramy action in this chapter, so Ramy fans, I hoped you liked it and please review. I'd like your perspective on this!**

**Thanks-**

**TeamSwiss737**


	4. Two Steps Back, Three Kicks Forward

**Alright, fourth chapter, even though I called the first a prologue. I'm changing it to the first chapter; I've never really liked prologues. Hope you enjoyed the last one. It's like a big huge inner conflict with both Amy and Ricky about their feelings for each other. I was happy with that chapter because it was in-depth with their thoughts like in the first one.**

**So I'm in a good mood and I decided to write this chapter for my fans. Please keep on reviewing. They are the real reason why I update my story so quickly.**

**Any ideas you have are welcomed. Please remember to comment or question things.**

**Third person POV. Majorly AU. Don't judge my romantic, sappy ways, please ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

Thursday evening brings pizza, and that's all she can think about as she sits in her same seat for her last class: fourth row, back chair. Her stomach growling mingles with the sounds of pencils scratching against paper and breaths getting more and more impatient as the breath's owner's eyes scan across the worksheet they were assigned earlier in the period. It's a nearly impossible math assignment, but she's already finished it. Has finished it for a while now. And now that her mind is free of equations and variables, it fills with images of pizza. Greasy, cheesy pizza.

His last class is probably the most boring of the entire day. Everyone wants to kill themselves by the end of it. It's the best class for letting a person's mind wander, though, and he had never been more excited for it than on this particular day. He needed some time to think. A breather. He just needed a place where he wouldn't be interrupted, and seventh hour was the best place for that. As soon as the teacher began his long and pointless lecture, his mind drifted to her. He was so close to admitting his feelings for her, but did he really mind?

Soon the growling wasn't the only thing going on in her stomach. It started off as a flutter, the exact same feeling she had when she was with him in the hallway earlier. It was a funny feeling, but not an unpleasant one. She kind of liked it. But then the fluttering just kept growing and growing. She couldn't put her finger on what it felt like; it felt like nothing she had ever experienced before. What was it?

And saying that he wanted to be a dad! Where did that come from? Must've been the heat of the moment. Oh, he knew that what he said was true, but admitting it out loud – and especially to her – was taking a big risk. But he guessed that he was going to have to tell her anyway. She deserves that answer, and now she's got it. But why did his feelings have to come in the way of him being responsible? What was it about her that made him so tongue-tied, making his chances for messing something up greater? What was it?

The odd sensation in her stomach worries her, and soon her eyes are trailing the clock's hands until the two of them make 2:55. The bell rings around her, and she hurries to gather her books and notebooks. She knew she just wasn't hungry anymore. The flutters were coming at intervals, some weaker or stronger than the last. By the time she got to her locker, it felt like her stomach was vibrating on and off. She drops her things into her locker, then slams the door shut after grabbing her bag. She realizes exactly what it is, now. But who to tell?

When the bell rang, he was almost reluctant to leave. He wasn't quite finished thinking. He was a slow, thorough thinker who needed his time, and fifty-two minutes didn't happen to be enough. He took his time while walking to his locker, trying to make his thoughts coherent so for when the next time he saw her, he might be able to think clearly. But it was sort of a lost cause. Any signs of her and his thoughts would be as incoherent as a toddler's.

She stands in the middle of the T that branched off both Ben's and _his_ locker hallways. She was in a panicked mode; what was she supposed to do? How would the other react when he found out? Ben was her _boyfriend_. He promised to stay by her side and even marry her so she could have a good future for her and her baby. He was perfect. But Ben wasn't the father: _he_ was. And he had a right to know. He was the one who was supposed to experience these things with her, and didn't he just say that he _wanted_ to experience these things with her earlier this day?

She knew who she needed to go to.

He's staring at the picture again, but with a different gleam in his eye. If he was going to be a responsible father, he would look at his kid differently than he did before. With love. Or at least he'd try. He was no mother, so he couldn't feel the love that he just gave naturally to his child. He figures that part will come when the baby's actually with him. So he sighs and shuts his locker, turning towards the exit, only to be pulled around again.

He was walking away! She needed to talk to him – _now_. She was about to have an anxiety attack; she had heard stories about mother's going crazy because pregnancy things snuck up on them. She wonders if that's what's happening to her. She rushes towards him as he takes his first step away from her. _No_! she thinks desperately, lunging for his shoulder and pulling him around to face her forcefully. Oh, God…

She stares him down with a crazed look in her eyes. She's smiling slightly, like she's extremely happy, but in a lot of pain. He smiles bewilderedly as he shakes his head, not understanding why she is acting this way. She still looks beautiful, of course, even if she is smiling through whatever pain she's going through. Oh, right. She's in pain.

"What is it?" he asks in a low voice. She keeps that smile on her face. It's pretty much frozen on there since she can't seem to react very well besides have shortage of breath and a sore stomach. She grabs his hand and feels him cringe at how tight she holds it. Doesn't matter. This is serious, but being psycho won't help, so she exhales, closing her eyes gently and relaxing the muscle tension in her cheeks. Then, very slowly, she places his hand over her quivering stomach.

Holy shit! What the _hell_ was that? Was that what he thinks it was? His eyes instantly go to her stomach, as if he could see the little kicks making dents in her skin. When he's reassured he couldn't possibly see them, only feel, he raises his eyes to hers again.

"Is that…" he begins slowly, and she nods, smiling softly at him with tears in her eyes.

"I wasn't sure what to do, because this is the first time I've ever felt him kick, so that's why I kind of went to you…because you don't know what to do, either." She laughs shakily and he copies her, gazing down at her stomach once again. From the corner of his eye, he can see people stopping to stare at the pair of them, including her boyfriend. A smug smile slides onto his face and he places his other hand on her stomach gently, positioning the both of them in a way that looks like he's cradling her fragile belly. He's feeling _his_ baby while making her boyfriend jealous? He didn't think he had ever been happier.

She stares down at her stomach, too. In wonder. In amazement. And now she knows for sure that she has no regrets, especially since he's right there with her, feeling the life of their baby together. The tears start coming down her cheeks fast even though she promised herself she wouldn't cry at all. She was more of the 'suffer-in-silence' type, but this was uncontrollable. He reaches up with both of his hands to hurriedly wipe away the thick trial of tears with his thumbs, but both of them know it's no use.

If he wasn't Ricky Underwood, he'd be doing the exact same.

She puts her own hands on his then puts them on her stomach again.

"This is happening," he whispers. She nods.

"Yeah, this really _is_ happening."

They laugh a little and she still cries and the people around them watch in curiosity. Let them, they both think. They don't care. But euphoric moment is only short-lived.

"Uh, Amy?"

She jumps and turns towards Ben, one of his hands sliding off of her bump, but one managing to stay on. Her smile that had disappeared immediately turns back on, but he notices that it's forced. He also notices that Ben noticed. His smug grin grows wider.

"Oh, hey, Ben."

"What's going on?" Her boyfriend's tone of voice doesn't fit the moment, and he's suddenly upset with Ben. Who does he think he is, walking in on their private world? He's always thought that Ben never liked him. Maybe it was because of that thing with Grace.

"Oh, well…I felt the baby kick." She says this cheerfully, but not with as much passion as she had while she had been talking with him earlier.

"So you didn't come to me?"

"What?"

"Well, shouldn't I get the right to know?"

"I-I guess, but, Ben…Ricky's the father. He deserves to know first."

"Amy, he doesn't even want to be the father!" Ben screams, making the hallway echo with the sound of his voice raising an octave. "He's not supporting you; I am. I should have got to known first, because we all know that I'm going to be the fatherly figure in your baby's life!"

"Please, Ben. Calm down…we'll talk about this later. I'll call you when I get home-"

"Don't deny it, Amy. I'm going to have to take the responsibility of the baby while he runs off with some random chick to mess around with in bed-"

"You don't even _know_ what you're talking about," he interrupts. His hands are balled into fists and it takes all he can to not punch her boyfriend's face. How dare he make those kinds of accusations. "You don't even know what I think about. You have no clue what kind of future I want for my kid."

"Uh, sure I do: no future," Ben spits out before his own fist flies from out of nowhere, catching him off guard and coming in contact with his nose. He stumbles back and looks at her. She's screaming at Ben.

"What did you just do? Why did you do that?" Her voice is shrill and it makes him realize how close her thoughtful boyfriend was from coming in contact with his own _pregnant_ girlfriend's face. That crossed a line, right there. Someone pulled her out of the way before he charged forward and knocked the bastard to the ground. He may be tall and skinny, but he's stronger than he gives him credit for. He's still no match for him.

Even though Ben started it, she knew Ben wouldn't be the one to end it. A part of her felt bad for Ben and his self-esteem along with his pride – and possible body parts – but it's what he deserved. She had never seen this jealous side of Ben, and it was almost dangerous. His mouth ruled over him more than his mind, very unlike the Ben she had come to like. And he spoke like she wasn't even there, and as if she was his property. She saw Ben get a good punch in the lower face area before someone pulled Ben away.

He would've punched the living daylights out of that douche if the teacher hadn't pulled him off of him. He was yelled at, but he didn't listen. He would get grief from Margaret and the Doc, but he didn't care. He stared the guy down, wondering what she ever saw in him.

She wonders what she had ever saw in him before. Maybe it was just the promise of safety, acceptance, and love that made her date Ben Boykewich. But now that she had Ricky…

She couldn't do that to Ben. At least not now.

His lip is bleeding, when Ben stands up straight. He looks at her fleetingly before blushing.

"I'll call you later," Ben mumbles through the blood.

She doesn't respond to him, but instead turns her attention to the other participant in the fight. He's got a nosebleed, the trail trickling into his own mouth like Ben's. He wipes at it impatiently while breathing heavily and staring Ben down until Ben has rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. The people around them suddenly buzz to life and disperse and she fears for the worst rumors to come the next day. But when she looks back at him again, he smiles at her like she's his favorite person in the world and gingerly puts his left hand on her stomach again. The hand where his knuckles aren't busted open from accidentally punching the ground instead of Ben's face.

He won't let that small, pointless fight get to him. It didn't matter; he just wanted to be a dad again, for just a moment. Surprisingly, the baby's still kicking. A little more feebly, but still kicking all the same. She laughs and tells him that he's going to be in other's people's businesses a lot since he didn't even stop kicking once during the fight. He laughs, too, and pats her stomach gently, fighting down the urge to kiss it.

She takes his hand again, the one that's bloody, and leads him out the door. He follows, protesting a little, saying things about his car and dinner. She just tells him to be quiet, and to not be silly. Surprisingly, he obeys her. She thinks he's humoring her.

They walk back to her house, since it's a Thursday. Her mom works late on Thursdays. The walk's not long, but it tires her anyway.

"I know what you're going to do, Amy. I can do it myself; I know you're tired. Just tell me where the First Aid kit is, I can take care of myself."

The blood trail has dried underneath his nose, but it hasn't completely stopped. She sits him down at her kitchen table, and retrieves the small box of gauzes. She wets it, then comes towards him, blushing lightly and telling him that she's no nurse, but she knows a little. He smirks and rolls his eyes as she begins to dab at the dried blood. It's quiet while she works, the edge of her tongue peeking out from between her two lips. He stares at it for a moment, thinking about how childish she is. But she should be. She's only fifteen.

A fifteen year-old put in a twenty-five year-old position.

She stops cleaning under his nose suddenly, frozen, staring into space where his lips are. The hand holding his head in place slides from its position of fingers tangles at the edge of his scalp and palm grazing the top of his ear. It falls onto her stomach again, and he raises his eyebrows.

"You okay?"

She nods, then a smile spreads slowly across her face. She blindly moves her hand around to grasp his, and when she does, she brings it right back to her stomach again.

"I think he knows when you're near," she whispers. "He's been kicking up a storm since we got here."

He smirks. "Smart kid."

"Yeah, he will be. 'Cause you're his father."

His smile vanishes slowly, but she doesn't notice. She hopes he doesn't have a broken nose as she examines the swelling around the base of it. It looks pretty serious.

He hopes he can sit here like this forever, just having her be so comfortable with him while he drinks her in, baby and all. But maybe he does want to move on, so he can meet his baby that is changing his life in so many ways. He knows he can thank his baby for making him a better person. He knows he can thank his baby for bringing him closer to her. He just hopes he can thank his baby for bringing its family together.

But for the moment, he doesn't want to change anything. He just wants to stay in this perfect little world where nothing can touch the both of them. The three of them. He tightens his grip on her stomach.

So he does the only thing he can think of.

He barely has to stretch his neck before he captures her lips with his own.

**Thanks for reading this. Stayed up all night, so be kind in your reviews.**

**Thanks-**

**TeamSwiss737**


	5. Nothing Like a Good Change

**Here's the fifth chapter. I hope you like it. At first, it took a while to begin because I honestly didn't know how to write the romantic stuff. Trust me, I love to read it, but I just can't write it. It's like I can picture it in my mind, but the words to describe it just don't come. So please don't be mad if I write the Ramy romantic-action badly.**

**And to answer a question, I will do a short play-by-play of the fight that you might not have understood because of the switching POVs. Here goes: Ben threw the first punch, causing Ricky to almost fall backwards. Teachers come rushing into the hallway and someone, I won't say for surprise, pulls Amy out of the way before Ricky knocks Ben to the ground. Ricky knocked Ben to the ground because Amy's face was really close to Ricky's when Ben punched Ricky in the face, so Ben could have easily missed and got Amy instead. They wrestled on the ground and Ricky 'said' that Ben was a little stronger than he thought Ben was, but Ricky knew he could still take him, though. Ricky manages to pin Ben to the ground and punches him repeatedly in the jaw. He only gets about three punches, though, because the teachers pull Ricky off of Ben.**

**Since it was after school hours, they didn't get in trouble, so they were free to go. Hope that helped. And also when I wrote that Amy said something about the baby kicking a lot, what I meant was Amy had a hunch that her baby would be very easily excited and would be poking into other peoples' businesses a lot because he was all excited during the fight. Okay, glad I could clear that stuff up.**

**Thanks to the people who have reviewed. They made me cry as I read over them last night. They mean so much to me!**

**Like always, it's third person POV. Very much AU.**

**Sorry about the long Author's Note. I must be procrastinating before I write this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

It was almost like a flashback for the both of them. As soon as his lips came in contact with hers, they closed their eyes, and their minds went spiraling out of control, making them feel like they went back in time. To a time when the hard chair he sat in was a plush, blue couch, and she was sitting next to him, not crouched in front of him. To a time when not just their mouths made contact, but their tongues, and their hands, and their chests. To a time when clothes had been carelessly tossed to the side.

But in real life, he sat as still as he could, trying to behave himself even though his mind was completely somewhere else. Somewhere where clothing was only optional. Their noses bump against each other gently. His fingers twitched, but he quickly shoved his hands underneath his legs. He wouldn't ruin this for him…for her. If she even wanted it. Oh, shit! Should he pull back, or should her wait for her to? God, he was such an idiot. Why did he force himself on her?

When she came back to reality, she felt his lips only pressed softly against hers, not asking for more, but not asking for nothing. It felt so different from what she was used to from him, or what she had experienced from him before. Without the pressure had had put on her back at Band Camp, she could feel exactly how soft his lips were, and how vulnerable and shy he seemed as he kissed her. It was like seeing him in a different light, and she had to admit, she liked what she saw.

Oh, no. Was he giving too much of himself away? Was he really going to regret this? And what would happen after? Why were they even still kissing? Dammit, Ricky! He went and blew it. He probably scared her off and now she'd never ever want him around. She's probably thinking that he'd try things on her whenever they were taking care of their kid. Why was he so stupid?

Before she can even think about the possibility, she starts to kiss him back in the gentle way that he kisses her. It was like she was telling him that she appreciated him trusting her enough to show her the other side of Ricky Underwood – the weak side, the one that was fragile and sensitive. She had always thought that there was someone like that hiding behind his cool façade. And she got to see it.

Wait, was she kissing him back? He doesn't know. He can't tell because it's so gentle and light. But if she was kissing back, that stood for something, right? Maybe he wasn't an idiot…but what if she regrets it when she pulls back? No, he was still a very big idiotic douche bag.

Her finger gave a little spasm as she began drifting her hands towards the back of his head, causing her fingernail to scratch his ear. He made a little sound, making her freeze slightly before his hand slid from her stomach unexpectedly and settled around her still-tiny waist. She felt her heart-rate speed up and wondered what they were doing, exactly. Her hands, having dropped to the top of his chest, managed to slide along the trail of his collarbone and her fingers tangled into the hairs at the back of the base of his neck. She thinks the excitement made him react without thinking, resulting in his other hand coming up to the other side of her waist.

Well, his hands had a mind of their own, now. He couldn't help it, though. She made him, with the slow way her hands slid over the neckline of his shirt and coming to a stop behind his neck, delicate fingers snaking into the short hairs that began his mess of dark brown hair. And not to mention the way her lips became more frantic against his the farther her hands traveled along his body.

She could feel the strong hands tightening their grip on her slight figure. Everything was going too fast…or was it going too slow? She didn't know. Nor did she want to know. She just wanted to feel. She wanted to feel his other side and get to know it, and if this was the only way she could see his other side, so be it. And she would tell him – in the same way, of course – that she was honored and touched to be able to get to the real him.

Soon enough, he was bringing her hips towards his own, lowering her onto his lap. She complied, but he made sure to go slow. He didn't want to scare her. He had gotten this far, but he knew very well that she had a mind of her own. It was like her girl brain was on a different wave-length than the others, and he liked it. Another reason why he picked her.

She slid onto his lap smoothly, her baby bump brushing against his flat stomach. Her legs came forward to wrap around the back legs of the chair he sat in, the better to hold herself closer to him. Wow…what was she doing? Hadn't she promised herself as soon as she found out she was pregnant that she wouldn't have a high school relationship? Oh, well.

Her lips against his were something he didn't think he could ever get used to. The feeling of how soft they were, the perfect way they shaped against his own, and the _taste_-

"Amy?"

His lips were the ones that froze against hers first. She sighs softly, then leans away from him, catching his eyes before she gets up quickly from his lap. The dark brown seems on fire, yet tamed, as if they were the gates that allowed you into that other side of him. She straightens her shirt and turns to face her sister.

"Hey, Ashley."

Her sister's dark hair falls into her eyes, but for once, she brushes it back to get a good look at the couple in front of them. She smiles, as if she's going to laugh but can't decide if she should or shouldn't.

"Um, what's going on here?" she asks, looking at Ricky curiously.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him blush. Ricky Underwood actually blushed. Because of what she and him were doing. So of course, she blushes herself. And why was she home? Shouldn't she be in school, anyway?

"Nothing," she says instinctively, suddenly wary of her sister. Ashley's smile grows bigger.

"Uh, are you sure you weren't just making out with him? And who is this guy anyway? He's not the Ben I remember; he's too good looking to be Ben."

"Ashley-"

"Who is he? Who are you?" she asks, turning towards him. Her eyes look at him cautiously, and he knows that this girl really cares about her sister. He stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets, staring right back, prepared for whatever her sister throws at him. From the little stuff he knew about her Ashley, he found out that she was sarcastic, very indifferent, and very protective of her family. She would do anything for it.

"Ricky," he says, nodding once.

To his surprise, Ashley's eyes go round and go from him to her sister, then back again multiple times.

"This is Ricky Underwood?" she blurts, finally deciding to face her sister.

She nods and blushes under Ashley's questioning gaze. Great, just great. She looks pointedly at her sister, trying to telepathically tell her that she should leave. Ashley flashes that same smile again and points towards the living room.

"Um, I'll just leave you to it, then…I guess." She leaves the room with one last glance at him, her eyes lingering over his chest. She rolled her eyes and pushed her out the door.

It's silent for a few minutes, then she finally gets the courage to look up at him. He seems to be biting the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep from smiling. It's not enough to keep that trademark smirk in-check, though. She bites her lip, then picks up the fallen gauze.

"Uh, you probably need a bandage on that," she whispers, pointing towards his hand. He looks at it fleetingly before offering it to her. She smiles and takes it, wrapping a clean bandage around his fist gently. She works silently, and he lets her. She feels his eyes on him, but isn't sure of what to say. What could she say? 'Sorry I kissed you'? But didn't he kiss her?

He lets her sit in her silence, because he isn't sure if he should say anything at all. Should he apologize for kissing her? But didn't she kind of want it, too since she kissed him back? He watches her as she works, hair falling into her face multiple times. After a few feeble attempts to push it back, she gives up and lets it create a curtain between the two of them. He resists the urge to brush it back and uses the time 'alone' to think clearly. His mind was still somewhere far away, and he could barely keep his breathing normal. What the hell just happened?

She can't stall anymore. She's put more bandages on his hand than he needed, and there was no reason for her to start over; her bandages were wrapped perfectly. She had already applied the Neosporin, so there was nothing left for her to do. Wonderful. She lifts her head to look at him, a small smile on her lips.

"All done," she jokes, laughing nervously.

The corner of his lip twitches up in a small, crooked smile.

"Thanks," he says after a short pause. She bites her bottom lip again as they stare at each other, both secretly looking for some emotion that proves that they didn't want to kiss each other. Both can't find any, though. But what confuses them the most is that they're both so happy that the other wanted to share that kiss with each other. It must just be the teenage hormones.

His phone breaks the silence. It gives a soft bleat and he looks down at it after he takes it out of his pocket slowly. He thinks it better not be Adrian. It's not: it's just time for his appointment. Thursdays bring the therapist, along with Tuesdays and Sundays. He missed Tuesday night's because of Adrian, and the therapist was probably mad at him, so he knew he should go talk to him. Right now, he didn't know if he should thank his therapist, though, or scream at him for interrupting something so important.

He looks up at her guiltily, and she feels her heart sink. It's probably Adrian. Great.

"I have to go…thanks for taking care of me." He flashes her a smile before settling into an uncomfortable silence. She tries to think of a way to break it, but nothing comes to her.

"Ok," she whispers finally, her voice cracking slightly, her lip practically raw from the teeth marks. He takes a step forward, silently hesitant but he knows what he has to do. So he takes that last step that separates them and brings her into his arms, crashing his lips down onto hers. He feels her surprise, but she kisses back immediately, and the beast inside of him that only came out on occasions for hard-to-get girls roars in triumph, and he can feel himself smile against her lips.

It's a short kiss; not much passion, not much heat. Just a plain and simple kiss that just so happened to reach her very soul and make her shiver from the inside out. He draws away and whispers, "Okay, now I really have to go."

She looks at him with her lips pursed in a way that tells him she's trying to fight down a smile, and she suddenly looks a few years older. She's so mature, and although he didn't want any of this for her, he knows that she was the best choice if it were to happen to someone. She could handle this. He could handle this. _They _could handle this together. He doesn't think that he would choose anyone else to be in her position, ever. He knows that she's the one. She's different. She's making him different. And he likes it.

She walks him to the door, and before he leaves, he looks back at her, a gleam in his eye.

"Bye, Amy," he says, then hops down the front porch stairs. She closes the door slowly, her lips tingling, her mind exploding, her heart hammering. Ashley walks into the room.

"_That's_ Ricky? You didn't give him enough credit when I asked if he was cute or not." Her sister crosses her arms and leans against the door to the living room.

"Sorry," she says, looking dreamily at a spot on the ground.

"Was he the one that took you to the doctor the other day?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Now, the question is…what about Ben?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, snapping out of her daze.

"Are you breaking up with him?"

She doesn't answer. She forgot about him completely. Something squeezes tightly in her stomach and she knows it's not her baby this time. It's guilt. What should she do about Ben? He promised her a safe and beautiful future…but what about the jealous side of him that she got to see this afternoon? She didn't think she would be able to live with that all of the time. And what about Ricky? After what they just went through, Ben seemed more like some student in the background.

"I guess."

"Even after all he promised you?"

"Are you just trying to make me feel guilty? And didn't you tell me that you don't like Ben?" she snaps, glaring at Ashley.

"No, I'm just pointing out the obvious. And I don't like Ben. He's weird."

"Then I have to…I know he's sweet and wants to take care of me but…"

"But Ricky."

She looks at her sister, feeling like they connected in some way.

"Yeah." They don't say anything for a few minutes, standing awkwardly in the front hall.

"Well, are you going to call him?"

"Probably."

"Good. You shouldn't play him, especially since your preggo. Doesn't seem fair, to me." Ashley turns to leave, but before she does, she looks back at her, much like he had done earlier.

"And I like Ricky. Something tells me he can take care of you, too."

After her sister leaves, she closes her eyes. Ashley confuses her so much, but she did have a point. She needed to end it with Ben. She felt bad, but because she saw so many different sides of people, she realized that people weren't always what they appeared to be. And some cases were good ones, like Ricky's. Others were bad, like Ben's. And she wouldn't have ever known before that they affect her future greatly, but she understands that they do now. It's what it's all about.

Sighing, she gives up on tracking Ashley down to demand why she wasn't in school, and goes back to the kitchen to get her cell phone. She picks it up reluctantly and leans against the counter, then dials Ben's number. He answers after the first ring.

"Amy."

"Hi, Ben."

A pause.

"Look, I'm sorry about this afternoon, but I thought you understood that I'm going to take care of you and your baby. And so that also means that I'd like to know things about it. I should get to know first because everyone knows that I'll be the fatherly-figure for it and-"

"It?" she says, her voice raising an octave.

"I mean the baby – I'll be feeding the baby and washing the baby and playing with the baby, so why should the biological father get to know everything first when it's real father is twenty feet away?"

She shakes her head in anger. What was with him today?

"First off, Ben, you're being really selfish today. I go talk to Ricky and you come up and punch him because you're jealous? And second, Ricky and I talked this morning after school started. He told me some things that I won't bother telling you, but I think you'll understand what most of it was about when I tell you that you aren't going to be the only father – or any father."

"Amy, what are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you that I've really seen the true you: you're a rude and jealous jerk. And I'm not letting my kid live with that. And neither is Ricky."

"Are you saying-"

"I'm sorry Ben, but I want to break up." To her surprise, no tears come, even though she feels immensely guilty on the inside.

"Amy!"

"We're done, and there's nothing else to say."

"Amy, please-"

"Bye, Ben."

She hangs up quickly and tosses her phone onto the counter behind her quickly, as if it was a red-hot curling iron. It wasn't a very long conversation, but it tired her anyway. The clenching in her stomach eventually went away as she curled up on the couch, the T.V. on mute, and thought about the past week. The changes, even when she only thought about them, made her head swim.

But there was one thought that she was sure of: they were the best changes she has ever had.

**And finish! Don't worry, just this chapter. I won't finish this story now. I'm not selfish and mean like that. ;)**

**Hope you liked it. Please remember to read and review. More to come soon!**

**Thanks-**

**TeamSwiss737**


	6. Nothing Like a Bad Change

**Hey guys. Here's chapter six. Thank you to the people who reviewed, you have really determined how I will write this chapter. And to the reviewers who did not like or understand Amy breaking up with Ben, I would like to ask you to be patient. I'm not as oblivious to the Ben situation as you think I am, and I tip my hat to you people who are helping me write this story as best as I possibly can.**

**As always, third person POV. Most definitely AU. Please remember that!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager. I will please ask that nobody remind me of this.**

"Amy?"

"Ben?" she stutters out, shocked to hear her ex-boyfriend's voice again so soon. She leans against the kitchen counter again, unsure of what was really happening. The whole week had gone so fast and while she did enjoy most of the changes the past few days gave her, some were a little unnerving and unexpected; things that practically shook her and slapped her in the face, screaming, "Look at what happened! Because of you!"

This was one of those moments: she had just had an affair – though a very short one – with the father of her baby, and decided to break up with her boyfriend, because she was uncertain about the way he would act around the father of her baby, because the father of her baby just told her that he wanted to be a big part on their baby's life.

"Amy…please hear me out." His voice shook and she felt her eyes sting. He _did_ really care about her…and he would give her and her baby such a nice future. His intentions were good.

"I'm sorry I acted like a big jerk earlier. And I shouldn't have said those things while we talked a minute ago. Especially about the fathering part. I know that it's not my real baby, but I already feel protective of it, since I love you, and you love the baby. And if taking care of the baby makes you happy, I'll do it. All day every day. Anyway, I was out of line and I know that I didn't treat you right. I can't tell you how sorry I am about that; I was being really stupid."

"I know," she mutters. "You were."

He sighs and pauses for a moment. She hears him blow his nose.

"I can't stand losing you, Amy. I made a mistake, and now I'm trying to fix it. I'm not proud of what I did; I guess I was just so jealous and I was already in a bad mood because Henry and I got into a fight and my mom's sister just died…There's been a lot of bad stuff going around for me, and I just kind of cracked." He takes a deep breath as she looks at her fingernails guiltily. She knows now that breaking up with Ben just because he acted like any other regular teenage boy does was a bad excuse for not telling him about her cheating on him.

"I still want to marry you, though. I still want us to be together. I want your baby to have the best life possible, and I want you have the best life possible, too – with me."

She closes her eyes, putting her hand to her stomach to feel if that funny feeling in her stomach was the baby kicking again, but no little feet pounded gently against her hand. The funny feeling was guilt.

"I know," she says finally. She swallows hard before turning her eyes to the ceiling, regretting even the thought of saying the next three words. "I do, too."

There's a short stretch of silence until Ben's voice comes through the receiver.

"R-really?" he asks, his voice cracking.

"Yeah," she says quickly before she can talk herself out of breaking up with Ben – again. Now it was her turn to apologize. Her face paled.

"Ben, I'm sorry I broke up with you. I guess I was just upset, too. I – er, don't like violence," she lied through her teeth. "So that's why I got mad at you. I'm sorry I screamed at you and made you jealous, and told Ricky about the baby first. It's just…this morning, he and I talked about him being a part of the baby's life, and since he's the biological father and he had just told me he wanted to be the dad, I thought I should have gone to him first."

"Oh, Amy. I'm sorry; you should have told me that first. God, now I feel like an idiot…I'm sorry. If I had known that, I wouldn't have been such an idiot." He sighs deeply. "Can you forgive me?"

Her fingers idly make small circles on her stomach. She knows she should say yes. It was Ben, for crying out loud. Ben is absolutely perfect to her. But what happened with her and Ricky…she can't shake the – the connection they had when they kissed, or how right it had felt and how happy she had been when they finally kissed again. And seeing the real him…

"Yeah…I forgive you."

"Really? Thank you, Amy. Thank you so much. I'm so sorry about today. I promise I won't act jerky to you ever again, and if I do, you can break up with me and I promise I won't bug you ever again."

She laughs once, smiling softly. There's her Ben.

"Okay."

"Okay…and, Amy?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She hesitates, squeezing her eyes shut, the smallest of tears escaping from one of them and sliding down the length of her nose, eventually dripping down onto the counter.

"Me, too."

They say their good-byes, and she sets the phone down gently this time. She didn't tell him. She didn't tell Ben she cheated on him. And she didn't even break up with him. Maybe if she had told him, he would have broken up with her, and it would have been easier to deal with. But now, she didn't tell him she had an affair, and she was still in a relationship with him. Her hand makes a fist and she feels like punching something. Preferably herself.

"What happened to not leading him on?" Ashley asks, stepping out of the doorway from the front hallway. Her face is unreadable, a sure sign that she's upset.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about," is her instinct answer.

Ashley rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the kitchen table. She turns around, using her elbows to prop her chin up on the counter.

"What changed your mind?"

She looks at her sister, seeing the challenge in her eyes despite the emotionless face. She feels her own face grow red and her answer comes out heatedly. Who was her sister to talk to her about her love life?

"Ben's just a nice guy. He can promise me everything."

"So you're keeping him for his money?"

"No! I'm keeping him because I absolutely _know_ that he'll be able to take care of me and my baby."

"Ricky can, too."

She looks at Ashley incredulously. If a time came to talk herself out of Ricky, it was now.

"How do you know? And maybe Ricky can give me what I want, but there it is: _can_. He might not give me what I want or – or need. Ben _will_ give me what I need for this baby."

Ashley looks at her sister before shifting her eyes to the table. She mumbles something, using her hair to hide her face from her sister.

"What?"

Ashley's head snaps up, her face showing the first signs of emotion: annoyance.

"I said when did you start being so selfish!"

She recoils as if Ashley slapped her, standing up straight and taking a few steps back, crossing her arms defiantly and shifting uncomfortably.

"I'm not being selfish, I'm just thinking about what the baby will need."

"You mean what _you_ will need?"

"No."

"Well, why are you keeping Ben around still, if it's not because he can give you what you want? And don't give me that 'He can support my baby' crap, because I'm about ninety-eight percent sure that Ricky can support your guys' baby, too."

She was about to protest when Ashley cut in again.

"You didn't see the way he looked at your stomach, or the way he looked at you. You were too busy feeling guilty about Ben and feeling bad for yourself." She gets up suddenly and stalks out of the room. Before her footsteps' echoes die away, she can barely hear Ashley grumble to herself, "Man, she's dumb."

She exhales deeply, her arms coming uncrossed to cradle her stomach.

"What are we going to do?" she whispers to the air, looking down at the small half-circle jutting out from her stomach.

She can't get her mind off of him. Even though she should be thinking about Ben and being glad that he took her back, she can't help thinking about the moment she and Ricky shared. The _moments._ All because of this morning.

What she said was true. She was keeping Ben around because of the same reason from the very beginning: promise of a great future. She's said it to herself so many times now, it's become a regular mantra that's been floating through her head multiple times an hour ever since the day he proposed in the park. Of course, Ricky's gone and messed it up and she knows it's going to take some time to out back in her head.

Her head is still filled with Ricky: his hair, his hands, his body, his lips, his eyes. Everything about him invades her vision, and she can't see right. Or breathe right, for that matter. For the rest of the day, she has to remind herself to go down the good path: the path of Ben, and to convince herself not to stray towards the bad path: the path of Ricky, even though that path will always be so close to her path of Ben, thanks to this morning's revelation.

She has to convince herself to forget about what happened in that kitchen. Forget about the fact that he even came over to her house after school today. She would just tell herself it didn't happen, and if he asked about it or wanted to talk about it, she'd tell him they should just forget it ever happened. If she were to marry Ben, the last thing their baby would need is for a broken up home of her and Ricky fooling around while Ben stood off to the side. There'd be lots of fighting, and she didn't want her baby to think she was irresponsible. And a gut feeling told her Ricky wouldn't want that either.

Her heart sank, thinking about her and Ricky separating – for good. If they wanted a healthy family, she would just have to marry the guy she didn't love – scratch that, the guy that can give her a future, and cooperate with him and Ricky as best as possible.

When her mother got home around seven, she ate her Chinese quietly, avoiding Ashley's accusing eyes and hoped that she wouldn't say anything about the…incident that happened earlier. She didn't, but the glares Ashley shot at her were enough for her to almost lose it. After helping with the dishes, she crawled into her bed, fresh from a long shower, and snuggled down into her bed covers. The snow fell softly outside her window, having started up a little while ago. Christmas lights casted a soft glow down the street as she watched it through heavily-lidded eyes.

The tears came slowly as she thought about her and Ricky. It all came down to her feelings: loving Ricky was wrong, but she feels as if she can't help it. She had fallen for him at Band Camp, fast and hard. And even when she found out she was pregnant, the feeling of hatred mixed with her feelings of love and sadness. But this was when she thought he wouldn't support her at all. Starting when he offered to drive her to her doctor's appointment a week ago, everything became a big mess.

It tired her just to think about it, and soon reality became dreams.

_The cabin was dark, even though the sun still peeked just behind the trees. But maybe that's why the room seemed a dark shade of gray. Trees were seen as far as the eye could go, despite the small clearing where the field they practiced marching at. Glimpses of the lake about a mile from the campsite were rarely heard of, but on hikes, some people swore they could hear the quiet lapping of the waves on the shore._

_But for the young couple positioned awkwardly on the old, blue couch in the middle of the cabin, sounds outside of their own labored breathing weren't even heard of, no matter how hard they strained their ears to listen._

_As soon as the night had fallen, the deserted cabin had gotten cold although it was the middle of August. The big quilt he had found luckily managed to wrap around the both of them, trapping their body heat from the friction they made and keeping them warm in their own little cocoon. The crickets chirruping had put him to sleep, one had resting on her bare beck, fingertips placed lightly on the spine. His breathing stayed deep, but no longer labored, his chest rising and falling. Her head rose and fell with it, giving her a sort of rocking motion that made her own eyes slowly shut._

_One of her arms was snaked around the back of his neck, the other folded against his chest, its fingers moving back and forth soothingly along the upper edge of his abs. She fell asleep soon after, to the soft sounds of their breathing._

_Suddenly, the sun's cloud-tinted rays filled the cabin with a grayish light. He stirred beneath her, causing her to open her eyes quickly. Her head still rested on his chest, hair spilling down the side of his latisimus dorsi. She moved her head to look up at him, chin resting between his pecs. He gazed down at her in wonder. She had been the first girl who he had spent the night with. He couldn't help the small smile from stretching across his face._

_And then the previous night repeated itself._

She gasps and shoots up, the blankets coming with her. She reminds herself that it was just a dream, just a dream. Not real. Of course it wasn't real; the real night was filled with awkward glances and no blanket and not all of the clothes were thrown on the floor. Only some.

Her breathing was ragged, much like her breathing in the dream. She barely noticed the way her hair stuck to her forehead or how sticky the sheets felt around her; she was too busy crying.

She cried for how that night didn't go how she wanted it to. She cried for how he didn't spend the night when she had, curled up in a ball under that quilt that _she_ had found, not him. She cried for him not paying any attention to her for the last two days at Band Camp. She cried because she wouldn't get nights like those from him, only Ben. And she didn't know if she wanted them.

The clock read three in the morning, but she felt as if she had been asleep for barely five minutes. She rolls out of her bed and tiptoes across her room, opening the door as silent as possible and tiptoeing again down the hall and into the bathroom. Once she closes the door, she turns the sink on cold, splashing it on her face and arms to cool herself down. She lets the water droplets cascade down her face as she looks in the mirror.

It was just a dream.

~SLAT~

_It was just a dream_, she repeats for the two-hundredth time this morning. As her mom pulls away, she hikes her backpack up a little farther, ducking her head enough so her hair falls into her face. For some reason, she _really_ didn't want anyone to see her today. She walks through the front entrance, avoiding eye contact at all costs. She feels as if her face is constantly on fire because of last night. Everything keeps on replaying in her head; she thought it would be one of those dreams she forgets the more she thought about it, but it had the opposite effect.

She puts her books into her locker as quickly as possible, then takes out the ones she needs. Quickly glancing at the ultrasound, she shuts her locker and heads in the direction of her first class. She takes the long way, though, going straight down the hallway towards Ben's locker and not even looking down Ricky's hallway.

Ben's at his locker, shoulders slumped, but a small smile on his face. She approaches him slowly, not saying anything when she's standing right next to him. He looks at her feet, then quickly raises his eyes to look at her.

"Amy," he breathes, giving her a wide smile. She blushes and gives one back, laughing a little.

"Where's your French horn?" he asks, gesturing towards her empty hand usually reserved for her instrument's case. She looks at him curiously.

"Don't you remember? It broke, you sat on it." She laughs at the sheepish expression on his face.

"Yeah, I guess I still haven't replaced it yet."

"Oh, Ben, you don't have to replace it."

"Yes, I do. What's mine is yours, right? So my money is yours and I'm getting you another French horn."

She smiles at him softly. Why couldn't she just be happy with Ben? Sure, he had his mess ups and mistakes, but didn't everyone? Just look at her stomach.

"Thank you," she whispers. The warning bell rings and they stand there silently.

"I should get to class," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, me, too."

"Ok…well, I love you."

She sighs and closes her eyes briefly.

"Me, too." He smiles, oblivious to her silent, mental screaming, and leans in. She rises up on her toes and meets his lips with hers. It's a lingering kiss, one where he presses down harder than he usually does. She thinks he means it as a sorry, so she allows it instead of pulling away like she would have in another situation, because she knows he's upset with himself, and he feels like he can make up for it. When they pull away, he says good-bye, giving her hand a little squeeze. She smiles at him as he walks away, but it vanishes immediately after he rounds the corner and disappears down the next hallway.

She closes her eyes, slumping against the side of Ben's locker. She was such a horrible person. Horrible.

When she opens her eyes, she looks around, seeing if anyone had seen the exchange between her and Ben. When it seemed like no one had, she's mistaken. A pair of dark, chocolate-brown eyes lock with hers before they disappear among a small sea of students. And just like that, he's gone.

And just like that, she's gone. Gone to him. The other guy. The guy who can promise a future, and a good life. The guy with the money. When he thought he had a chance, just a small chance…No. He wouldn't stop. He had said before many times that he didn't like to get in the middle of relationships or break any couple up – technically - (he always made a couple break up, anyway) but this girl was different. Different from the beginning.

And this time, he wouldn't leave her be. Not at all.

No, this time, he wouldn't let her go.

**To all those Ben fans, I hope you appreciate this. I am not a Bamy fan, but I thought this was a great chapter dedicated to the Bamy fans. I like keeping all of my readers happy, and if that's what it takes, putting a Bamy chapter in, then so be it. Just know that the story might not end the way you want it to, so please respect my decisions. Thank you, and I hope you Bamy fans liked this chapter. Enjoy!**

**TeamSwiss737**


	7. And Another Good One, Hopefully

**Here's the next chapter. I'm kind of sad right now because of the reviews. A few people are criticizing my last two chapters, and that is okay, but if you are the ones criticizing, why are you even reading this story? The ones who are criticizing are Ben fans, and it states clearly that this is an Amy/Ricky story. Why would a Ben fan want to read it, then? I appreciate it if you do read my story, but I'd like to say that this is my story and if you don't like it, please do not comment, just don't read anymore. I know what I am doing. A good story always needs a problem, some hill for the main characters to go over, and this is one of them. **

**Problems like this are the key points in a story's plot that keep the story moving and interesting. When people accuse me for doing something they don't want, it makes me mad because that's how a story goes. But remember that this doesn't mean you won't get what you want in the end. It does hurt me because I take my reviews very seriously.**

**And I made Amy and Ben get back together to try and put a bad light on Amy. The dark light is on Amy right now for being a bitch and not telling Ben that she kissed Ricky. And I complimented Ben a lot, last chapter. I put everything good about him in chapter six, and even let him get Amy back. I will try to make Ben a good-guy, but to the Ben fans, it might not be exactly how you want it. Just live with it.**

**I didn't really feel like making this chapter. I'm too sad to, but I'll try. If it's not my best, my apologies to the people who have stuck with me and have praised me for my work, not criticized it. Shortened chapter, by the way. Sorry.**

**Third person POV. AU.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager. As if I needed reminding and something to make me even sadder.**

Four days have passed since her and Ricky kissed. At random moments, she can almost feel his lips against hers again, soft and gentle, allowing her into the sensitive side of him. But then Ben's lips come swooping in, shoving her out of her daydreams. Ben was always with her, getting her whatever she wanted and telling her he loved her at least once every hour. She appreciates it, but sometimes it just gets annoying, and the more time she spends with Ben, the guiltier she feels for remaining silent when it comes to telling Ben about her affair.

They sit on her couch Monday evening, their finished homework spread out on the coffee table in front of them. He holds her hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over her own softly. They watch T.V. silently, laughing here and there at a few funny moments. He seems comfortable with how quiet she is, thinking that maybe she's just tired. But no. She's far from tired.

She has to tell him soon.

The whole of Friday had been spent avoiding Ricky at all costs, but he apparently had a different plan in mind. He was always somewhere she was, whether by accident or not. She knows he wants to talk about Thursday, but she's too scared to. If she does, would he tell Ben that they kissed? But what if he does because she hasn't talked to him? She needed to tell Ben soon, but she couldn't find the heart to all of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

But it would be tonight. She didn't want to still be a cheater and a liar over Christmas break, and it was only three days away. And that way, it would give time for the two of them to heal before the holidays. Or at least for Ben to heal.

He excuses himself to the bathroom, and it's in that moment when he disappears around the corner, that she knows she doesn't love Ben. Never has, never will. He's been the sweetest boyfriend she could have ever asked for, but she's never loved him. She feels dirty, using him for his comfort and promise. She played him so badly, and it all comes crashing down on her as she sits alone on the couch. She needs to end it now.

She cries because she feels pressure and guilt. When he returns, he rushes to her side at the sight of her tear-stained face.

"Amy! What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

She looks at Ben through her blurry eyes; why did he have to be so nice? It was going to make telling him that much harder.

"No, you did nothing wrong…I did something wrong, though."

"No, Amy. You didn't do anything wrong. It's Ricky who did the wrong thing."

Her heart froze and she paled.

"W-what do you mean?"

He looks at her sympathetically, hands on either side of her face the better to look at her. He brushes a few strands of hair back.

"He was the one who did the wrong thing at Band Camp. It's not your fault." He wraps his arm around her and pats her back soothingly as the tears come even faster, now.

She sucks in a deep breath to calm herself, but it's to no avail; when she exhales, it comes out in a loud whimper, causing Ben to cringe and lean away.

"No, you don't understand," she cries out. "I did the wrong thing, Ben. It was me! After you two fought, I brought Ricky home so he could clean up, and I…well, I kissed him!" She blurts out the last words then buries her face in her arms, flinging herself to the edge of the couch. The pressure lifted off of her shoulders, but just saying out loud that she cheated on Ben made her guilt unbearable. She felt like she was going to explode – or implode. Whichever came first.

Ben sat silently besides her until she felt him get up from the couch. She couldn't face him; her face was red and wet from crying and she might start hyperventilating from just seeing him and his crushed face.

"Is that true?"

She nods into her arms.

"Oh…Amy…why?"

Her voice comes out muffled, but she doesn't bother repeating it.

"Because…I don't know…how I feel about you Ben."

"You don't," he gulps loudly, "love me?"

She pauses before shaking her head no. A little less pressure is taken off. Ben is quiet for the longest stretch of time, long enough for her to lift her head and see if he was still there. He stands at the opposite side of the room, shoulders slumped forward like last Friday morning, but no ghost of a smile was seen on his crestfallen face.

"Do you regret it, though? Kissing him?"

The words barely come out of his mouth, but she feels as if he shouted it. Shouted it loud enough for the whole room to hear. The seconds ticked by on the clock hanging above the door to the front entrance. She gulps, breathing in deeply before hiccupping.

Then, ever so slowly, she shakes her head no again.

Ben closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He starts pacing the floor, then stops suddenly, tears in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering. He puts a hand to it and looks at her fiercely, obviously trying to mask the hurt in his face.

"So, is this…does this mean we should break up?"

"Not unless you want to be with someone that doesn't love you." The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and she freezes. Her own hand comes up to cover her mouth, and she looks at him feebly, scared for anything he might say.

It shocks her when his expression softens. He takes a small step forward and she stiffens, shrinking into the couch, wishing it would just swallow her whole.

"I..I'm disappointed, Amy. I thought you loved me and now…I hope you're happy with what you chose. Really." He looked at her with the same fierceness in his eyes, with his voice sincere. She believes him, and gathers enough courage to look him fully in the eye.

"I'll be there…I guess. When you really need me. Just don't expect me to be there if he breaks your heart." He takes one last look at her before he leaves, quickly grabbing his jacket off of the back of the couch and walking into the hallway and out the front door. He closes it gently, and a small part of her wonders if he should be driving in the sudden snow storm that struck up earlier that day. It was a surprise storm, especially since most of December was a green winter.

But it's too late, and she stays sitting on the couch. She was free. No more pressure to say anything. No more guilt. But why didn't it feel right? Oh, she knows why.

She doesn't have a promised future anymore. And she doesn't have him to run to. He saw her forget about him and kiss Ben in the hallway, so he's gone. And he won't take her back.

He wants her back so bad. He had her, but it wasn't enough. He should have known that she wouldn't have stayed. He had promised her that he'd be there, and he had even kissed her to let her know that he _did_ care about her. But he didn't promise her the future like that Ben-kid does.

And so she's gone. But he won't take that for an answer. He'll promise her everything. Everything she could ever want. He'll get a job, and a house of his own, insurance, and everything she needs. He'll get it, because he can't deny the feelings he has for her. And during that kiss, something told him she couldn't either.

He gets her perspective, and why she would go back to her boyfriend. He didn't want to ruin her, so he didn't tell her boyfriend anything about the kiss. That would push him _very_ far away from her. But when she did tell him, he would be there. And if she didn't…well, he'd find another way.

And he would find a way. Find a way to get what he wanted. And that was the only way he was ever like his father.

**This chapter is finished. Maybe more later…if I feel like it. Right now, I'm really not in the mood. Thanks for understanding.**

**TeamSwiss737**


	8. Conversation Starters

**First off, I'd like to thank the people where in their reviews; they encouraged me to go on. You have helped me stand on my feet again when I only wanted to sit down. And now I go back into this story with more confidence than ever. Thank you so much, I really appreciate the words you have said to me. This is my story, and I'm going to write it **_**my**_** way.**

**The last chapter was a little one that was only dedicated to Amy's and Ben's crumbling relationship. And now that it's over, I will have a lot of great Ramy stuff in the story. You'll just have to be patient for the stuff to come.**

**Third person POV. AU.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

The snow doesn't stop coming down in thick blankets through the night. The next morning brings snowplows driving up and down the streets repeatedly, and accidents reported on the radio as her, Ashley, and her mother drive to school.

"I don't know," her mother says nervously, biting her lip and gripping the steering wheel tightly. She keeps her eyes locked on the road, never straying anywhere from the muddy-white stretch of tar. "Maybe they should have just canceled school."

"Does this mean we get to stay home?" Ashley pipes up from the back seat. Her mother's eyes finally tear away from the road to give Ashley a look through the rearview mirror.

"No, all I'm saying is it's pretty dangerous to be driving in weather like this. Do you know how many accidents have been reported within the hour?"

Ashley rolls her eye before they glue themselves to the screen of her phone.

Anne's eyes finally begin to wander a bit more as the roads become more clear and easier to see. Multiple times they come to a rest on her stomach, then quickly avert back to the road. She sighs at her mother and pats her stomach.

"Don't worry, Mom. We have complete trust in you and your driving skills."

Anne throws another look, this time to her eldest daughter. She purses her lips and doesn't say anything for the rest of the ride. The parking lot is packed with cars, all from the usual morning rush. Students zigzag around cars and horns blare. Friends call out to one another, but most students try to make their way into the building first to get out of the snow.

"Alright, out you get, Amy. Be careful on the ice." She grabs her bag and opens the door, the snow hitting her face as soon as she steps out into the chilly air.

"I will, Mom."

"Love you," Anne calls out before the door shuts. She gives a little wave before trudging through the snow, pulling up her jacket around her neck and bending her head against the biting wind. She can barely see the people making a small group around her, momentarily cutting off the wind. She walks with them, as a pack into the building, until they finally disperse and leave her in the front hall.

Snow sticks to her hair and acts like a coating on her eyelashes. She brushes the snow from her as she makes her way to her locker, leaving a trail that mixes with the other snow tracks that managed to liter the floor of the school. She slips a little on a puddle in the middle of the hall, reminding herself to watch out for it the next time she walks there. When she passes Ben's locker, she sees him talking to his friends Harry and Alice. They look at her as she goes, but Ben's eyes focus on the ground. A ghost of the guilt she felt before makes her stomach jump.

She grabs her books quickly, thinking about the previous night and hoping she did the right thing. Telling him was the best thing to do, but she didn't know that if she told him the correct way. He had said he would be there, but only at her darkest hour. Would that affect her at all, knowing that she's pretty much on her own now?

Maybe. When she passes Ben's locker again, they aren't there anymore, and she exhales. Smiling slightly, she takes the long way again to her first hour, forgetting about the puddle. Of course she would. As soon as she steps in it, her balance is questionable. She doesn't swing her arms around to keep herself in place because of the books in her hands. She panics, thinking she'll end up hurting her back, or worse, the baby.

But the floor never comes.

She feels strong arms support her back, bringing her up quickly before she touches the ground. They cradle her to a chest that seems oddly familiar, and she snakes her arms up around whoever's neck it is. She looks up, her heart pumping from the adrenaline rush, and sees her rescuer.

Signature smirk placed on his lips, he looks back down at her into those eyes of hers. Those eyes… He stands up straight, bringing her with him and not releasing his grip on her completely until she's got her feet on a dry, flat surface.

Blushing furiously, she looks up at him, getting swallowed in those eyes that she has come to hate, and to love. Those eyes that see into her soul but allow her to see into his. Those eyes…

"Thanks," she mumbles, ducking her head. His smirk grows wider. People around them watch their exchange; she finds it awkward, but he finds it amusing. Looking down at her, he sees the embarrassment in her eyes and the obvious 'deer-in-headlights' expression she wears while looking at him. He knows she's been avoiding him, and it's hurt him, unlike any other girl who has avoided him, but he gets it.

"No problem," he says. She looks away at anything but him, but looks up again at his next words. "Why wasn't your boyfriend here to save you instead of me?"

Her brow furrows as she gazes at him. Surely he had heard? Was this some kind of game or trick for getting back at her for not talking to him?

"Ben's not really talking to me anymore," she says slowly, analyzing his facial expression as she tells him. He shocks her, though. His own brow furrows in what she assumes is confusion, and his eyes get a spark in them. She recognizes that spark, even though she's only ever seen it twice. His eyes were full of it when they kissed last Thursday, and she had seen a flash of it that one night at Band Camp.

"Although it's none of my business," he begins in the charming tone he always used when he wanted an answer, "why isn't he talking to you?"

"You're right; it _is_ none of your business," she snaps, but feebly, making the intimidating remark not very intimidating at all. She sucks in a deep breath while she stares into his eyes again. Those eyes… "We broke up. I told him about…" She trails off, tearing her eyes away from his and avoiding his gaze.

His smirk grows wider, but he hides it quickly as she looks up at him when he says nothing. Her eyes go back and forth between the two of his, unsure of where to look. Her breathing quickens as they continue to stand there silently, almost challenging one another to begin the conversation that she doesn't know whether or not to dread having, and the conversation which he doesn't think is necessary to have. They have something, so why bother discussing it when they could just act on it?

He chides himself gently that it wasn't just about the physical stuff – and it wasn't like he was trying to sleep with her or anything – but it was also about the feelings, which made him rethink about having that talk. Maybe they did need to talk about what happened last Thursday so they can sort out their feelings for each other, and see what they were.

She's so different. And kissing her made him regret every sexual thing he had ever done with Adrian or any other girl who he had seduced. Looking down at her now just made him want to confess his sins to God and hope that He would forgive him, and maybe, just maybe then he'd be worthy enough for her.

Wow, Grace must have really got to him.

He looks so conflicted. One moment, his eyes light up like he's unbelievably happy and stress free. But the next, his eyes are grim and his smirk disappears. She doesn't understand what could possibly be going on in his mind right now, but the only thing she can think of is talking with him about Thursday. A part of her doesn't want to see him ever again. He's making everything so difficult. She doesn't know if she could handle her feelings – or her sanity – with him around all the time when she has those feelings for him that scare her. And make her happy at the same time…which leads to the other part of her, the one that wants to talk to him so they can get their feelings straight. So they can talk about them, and where life will lead them. If they'll be together or not.

She grips her books tighter and bites her lip. He stares at it for a moment, before the words come out of his mouth.

"We need to talk."

She looks down at the floor. "I know."

"Yeah, now."

Her head snaps up. "Now?"

"Now," he repeats, grabbing her wrist and dragging her down the hallway, towards the room where they keep all of the instruments.

"B-but…I – Ricky, I have to get to class. I'd be skipping class twice within a week, now." She tries pulling against his grip, but he drags her effortlessly down the hall, ignoring the pointed stares and whispers. He opens the door and pulls her through, shutting it behind her, leaving him with his fingertips grazing the handle, and standing over her small figure as she leans against the door. She looks up at him, confusion written across her face.

He breathes heavily for a moment before stepping back, giving her room and him a chance to collect his thoughts from going wild.

"Why now?" she manages to squeak out.

"Because we can't ignore this anymore." He rubs the back of his neck in an un-Ricky Underwood-ish way. He's not good with talking. Only the physical part. Sure, he was a world-class charmer, but talking about feelings, and especially with a girl, was something that he tended to fail at.

"Okay, so why'd you kiss me, then?" she asks at a brave attempt to start. If he wouldn't talk, then she would, even if she was a little scared. He stares into her eyes and she finds it unnerving. It's like he's trying to communicate with her without talking; she feels like it's working, too. But she just can't accept the answer.

"Because," he finally says, a hint of exasperation tinting his voice. He breathes in deeply before letting it all out. "You're different; you've been different from the very beginning, from the moment I kissed you for the first time. I just didn't realize it until all of this happened, and I want to kick myself every time I see you because of it. Things would have been different if I realized how different you are from the other girls, and what that means to me… I think I love you, because you're different and you're making me different. And I like it. I love it."

He exhales shakily, his eyes dropping from hers and looking to the floor. He puts his hands on his hips and turns around. Why did he have to be so lame with words, _and_ get emotional when he talked about stuff like this? Probably because of his dad. Bastard.

She sucks in a breath noisily, which makes him turn around.

"Why now?" she whispers.

He sighs and shakes his head.

"Because I'm an idiot, that's why. I was too stupid to realize that I loved you from the first night, and it's not until I got punched in the face by Ben that I realized just how jealous I was that he got to kiss you. I couldn't help but think that that should be me, kissing you in the hallways, and promising your future for you and our kid. Not him. And I needed to do something about it. So that's why I kissed you. Because I love you. And I want you to be with me."

She shakes her head. "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making everything so difficult, Ricky? I thought you wouldn't care about me at all, and that's what I've been prepared for, but now… I can't control my feelings; I'm a hormonal mess, so if I fall for you again – what am I saying; I already have –" She rolls her eyes. "If I love you, only to be let down again and get my heart crushed…I think I'd lose it." She takes a bold step forward, her eyes leveling with his lips.

"So you can't let me down," she whispers fervently, fingers creeping up to the collar of his shirt. She feels the soft fabric of his grey t-shirt, and looks up into his dark, bottomless eyes. A hint of that smirk invades his mouth momentarily, and she watches his lips twitch with it.

"I know you can promise me what I need, I just need to hear it."

"And what do you need?"

She takes in a shaky breath. "Someone who can love me and give my baby the life he deserves."

He smiles and wraps his arms around the back of her waist. "I think I can promise you that. But what will you promise me in return?"

She shakes her head once, smiling softly, her long, sleek ponytail shimmering down her back. "My love, I guess. Me. Your baby." He laughs quietly and looks down into her eyes, wishing they could just stay there forever.

"So what does this mean?" she asks.

"I think," he says slowly, smiling at her, "that this means you won't be going to any more doctor's appointments unless I'm with." She laughs and he loves hearing the sound of her voice. She stops suddenly, though, her hand removing from his shirt to clutch her stomach.

"Ooh," she gasps.

"What?"

She glances up at him and smiles. "He just kicked. Wanna feel?"

For the fourth time, he places his hand across her stomach, noticing that it feels even bigger than it did five days ago. Sure enough, small little feet pounded against his hand. The feeling is so new, yet so familiar, it's almost overwhelming. He loves these little feet, and the feeling of her smooth stomach under his hand, and how close they get when he feels his child. He doesn't know how he feels about his child completely. He already knows that she loves him, but like he kept telling himself, he felt as if he would fully understand what being a father was like as soon as the little guy came into the world. Suddenly, he couldn't wait for that to come.

He looks up from her stomach to gaze at her, his heart beating fast. She blushes under the full force of his eyes, but speaks up, because she needs to tell him something, something he wants to hear and deserves to hear ever since he told her he wanted to be a part of their baby's life, and basically hers.

"I love you…there, I said it." He laughs and wraps his arms around her again, bringing his lips to hers for the first time in what felt like a long and agonizing time.

~SLAT~

"Hey, honey. How was school?" Anne asks when she gets into the car, quickly shutting the door as to not let the snow in. She smiles softly, subconsciously rubbing her belly.

"Great," she says, looking dreamily through the window. The snow had stopped falling earlier that morning, but all around were snow banks and white-roofed houses. Anne keeps her eyes on the road, much like this morning, and nods her head at her daughter's answer.

"Good, good," Anne muses, not really paying attention.

She sighs and leans into her seat, tuning out her mom's remarks about safe driving and weather. When they get home, she walks around the house with a smile on her face, talking to her mom, doing her homework happily, and even looking up websites that sell French horns. She thought she wanted to stop, but why should she? The French horn is what got her into Band Camp, wasn't it?

"You're extra happy today," her mom comments while making dinner. "Did you get back together with Ben?"

"Nope."

"Well, why are you happy, then?"

"Just because. It's a nice day today. I'm just really happy."

"Oh," Anne says, nodding her head slowly and disbelievingly.

"Do you need any help?"

"Uh, no…thank you though?" Anne's statement comes out as a question.

"Yeah, no problem." She sighs happily and bounces off to her bedroom.

"Must be the hormones," Anne mutters as her daughter's head disappears around the corner.

In her room, she sits in the windowsill happily, remembering when she had suck out of this particular window to go get an abortion. Now, she's just glad that she never did; she's happy that she didn't listen to Adrian. She knows now why Adrian encouraged her: no baby, no Amy and Ricky. She has to admit, though, that if the baby never came along, she wouldn't be with Ricky, now. She'd probably still be with Ben. Wow, she's really starting to like Band Camp after all.

Her mother and Ashley interrogate her at dinner, asking about school as to get an idea for what made her so happy. She skips over the morning, just saying that everybody seemed to ignore her today, and she didn't even see Ben in the hallways once. They seem to accept what she says, and she thinks about when they'll find out about her and Ricky.

Her and Ricky. It sounded so perfect to her. She replayed the day over and over in her mind, lingering over the important details. Her thoughts were interrupted, though, by her phone ringing. Thinking it's Ben, she grabs her cellphone from her bedside table and answers it cautiously.

"Hello?"

"Who do you think you are?" is what comes out of the receiver, loud and shrill, obviously a girl's voice. "Ricky was mine and now you stole him from me! You'll pay for this, you whore. You're just lucky I don't hit girls who are knocked up!"

"A-Adrian?" she sputters out.

"Yeah, and I'd be careful, if I were you." The line goes dead, and she gently sets her phone down. She should have known Adrian would call. Her and Ricky were pretty much seeing each other, but she hadn't really kept tabs on their relationship completely. Adrian was always jealous, though, and had a thing for revenge. She had to admit that her knees did shake a little as she got undressed for bed.

Whatever happened to her, she just had to face that facts: drama followed her wherever she went.

**Chapter eight done! Yay! Hope you liked this one. I made it extra-long, too, because the last chapter was so short. Enjoy reading!**

**TeamSwiss737**


	9. Everybody Talks

**Hey, guys. I hope you liked the last chapter; I put a lot of effort into that one. I wanted it to seem real, almost as if it could happen in the show. I tried to make the characters most like themselves, but I guess that's for you guys to decide. And I am very proud to say that I am almost at 50 reviews! A big shout-out to the readers who have come back and reviewed every time. Thanks so much, and I wouldn't have continued this story without you!**

**As always, third person POV. AU.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

She thought nothing would have been able to crush the joy she felt when she heard Ricky say he loved her. But she was wrong.

She tries to ignore what Adrian had said to her, and play it off like an empty threat or warning, but her mind replays over and over exactly the way Adrian had spoken to her; the growl and possessiveness with the hint of amusement. But it was far from a joke. Very far.

She's heard of the cat-fights Adrian has been in; most stories were from Madison, but a few were from Lauren, saying that her older brother would come home and tell them about some girls getting in a fight at school. It somehow always came down to Adrian upsetting some other girl because she had slept with their boyfriend. One story even happened to mention Adrian getting suspended for two weeks after 'accidentally' knocking a girl down a flight of stairs. She shivers in her bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

Adrian had no reason to be upset with her. 'Adrian and Ricky' had been a thing of the past for a while now, since Ricky had been chasing after Grace. She didn't even know exactly how the 'Grace and Ricky' thing ended; she had been too busy with the baby, her family, and Ben. She was just happy that 'Amy and Ricky' had come, hoping that it would be there to stay.

Forever.

"Forever?" she repeats out loud. Did she really want Ricky for forever? They are having a baby, and he said that she had changed him into a better person, and he said he loved her. She loves him, too, but does this mean they'll always be with each other? Probably.

She almost smiles. Almost. Because something _could_ come between them. She didn't trust Ricky fully. A person has to earn trust, even if they are staying by your side for the rest of their life to take care of your child. So knowing Ricky, with his 'bad-boy' label and all, it was expected of him to break the rules, break some promises, and break some hearts. Hers included. He slept around, all the time, so why would he stop? She does trust him, at the moment, but the future is always surprising. A gut feeling tells her she knows what will happen between the two of them when the baby comes.

But for now, at least, she would just enjoy being with Ricky. Never in her life would she imagine ending up with someone like him. She had seen plenty of people like Ben in her future, but anybody like Ricky may have been just an acquaintance. She wriggles her toes with excitement; she was dating a bad-boy.

She knows she shouldn't be excited over something like this, especially at the age of fifteen and especially since she was pregnant, but she couldn't help it. Any teenage girl would get wound up about dating the class rebel. Grace Bowman did, so why shouldn't she?

Her mind finally rests the more she thinks about him. He calms her. He makes her happy. He makes her feel safe. Adrian's threat doesn't seem so menacing now, and she can relax. Ricky would protect her.

Too soon her alarm clock is going off at 7:00. She exhales, a crease between her eyebrows already permanently formed for the rest of the day. The sleep she got didn't feel like enough, and whatever feeling of safety she had last night was long gone. Her legs felt like Jell-O while her feet felt like lead. The bed looked warm and comforting, but she ignored it, and left the confinement of her room for the kitchen. Pancakes sat on the counter, and she served herself a heaping pile of them. She had a feeling she wouldn't be able to eat at school, so best get her energy for the day.

Her mother runs into the kitchen, hurriedly putting one earring in.

"Come on, Amy, we have to go! I have to be at work early this morning; I thought I told you that!" She looks at her frantically, trying to clasp the earring in place.

"No, you didn't," she says, sighing heavily before shoving the rest of her pancakes in her mouth. She gets up and chews furiously before forcefully swallowing the huge lump in her throat, almost running to the bathroom. She brushes her teeth and checks her reflection one last time. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, much like yesterday. She never wore much make-up, and she still doesn't, but the light mascara she uses is a great distraction for the bags under her eyes. Her outfit consists of a dark-purple, loose blouse with the only pair of skinny jeans that fit her. They were a little tight in the legs, but fit snuggly around her expanding waist. Her mom calls out to her to hurry again, and she exhales sharply in annoyance.

"God, I'm coming!" she yells back, stomping down the hallway. Anne practically pushes her out the door, barely giving her any time to grab her jacket and bag. Hopping into the passenger seat, she grumbles, and slams the door shut.

"I'm sorry, I just forgot to tell. I'm very busy at work, right now."

She grunts, staring out the window at the lawns that already have spots of grass on them. Looks like another green Christmas. Hopefully it would be better than last Christmas. She tunes out her mom while she rambles on and on about her problems at work, Ashley throwing in a snide comment or two. She's gotten good at shutting people out. It wasn't hard to let her mind wander with no distractions.

"Are you even listening to me, Amy?"

"W-what?" she asks, snapping out of her thoughts and turning towards her mother.

"Yeah, I thought so. I just said that your father is picking you up from school today, so look for him when school's done." Anne presses her lips together in a thin line.

"What? Why?"

"Because he wants to see you, that's why."

"But I don't want to see him."

"And why not?"

"Because he left us after having an affair!"

"Amy, don't start, please. I have enough stress as it is," her mother says loudly, turning into the school parking lot. It's the fifth day in a row where the sun doesn't shine and clouds cover the sky. Anne looks helplessly out the window, silently asking if an angel could just rescue her from this mad world of hers.

"You think you're stressed! Look at me! I'm a walking reality T.V. show! Everywhere I go, people stare – even the teachers. Sure, I've gotten used to it, but that doesn't mean it still hurts. I can still hear everybody whisper about me. I know I have Ricky now, but I still have to deal with everyone else, and my job's starting soon and –"

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up a moment," Anne says, turning in her seat towards Amy. Ashley's eyes remove from her phone for the first time since they got in the car. "What did you just say about Ricky?"

Oh. Whoops.

She closes her eyes, unsure of what to say.

"Um, it's a long story…I'll tell you about it when I get home from school today." She ignores her mother's protests and steps out of the car, zipping her jacket up, the strong winds surprising her and causing her to gasp. She hears Anne drive away, probably furiously with a scared Ashley in the back, and makes her way into the building. As usual, students are in every which direction. She always found her high school a bit overwhelming – being in the hallways always got her heart racing just a little faster than normal.

But what really got her heart sprinting was the brown-haired boy coming her way, smile playing on his lips, dark eyes bright, white shirt pulled tight across his chest under his grey jacket, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

He never thought he'd be happier to see her standing in the hallway. Her bangs were out of her face for once, pinned back with the long ponytail she wore like yesterday. He likes her hair like this. He can see her face clearly, her beautiful, delicate face. She looks perfect standing there; healthy; glowing. Her stomach is still only somewhat noticeable, but he glances at it, anyway. That's his kid down there; his kid. Inside of her. _Their_ kid.

And he can't stand being apart from her anymore. So he takes those four long strides to her, cradling her face in his hands suddenly and kisses her, right in front of everyone. Right in front of Ben. Right in front of Adrian. Right in front of the world. Because that's his kid down there. And this is his girl.

Always will be.

It's not like those kisses you see in the movies; you know the ones. It's a simple kiss, a lingering one with hidden meaning and passion behind it. It's gentle and soft, so unlike him, but so like the real him. It's definitely like the real her. They're puzzle pieces forced together unwillingly, but finally shaping around one another to fit perfectly. When they break apart, she's breathless, even though the kiss was tame.

The people around them gasped and pointed, whispering things behind their hands and pulling out their cellphones. He puts a hand to her stomach softly, blocking it with his body from the prying eyes of the students. He kisses her briefly once, lips barely grazing hers, before he looks down at his hand cradling her baby bump.

"Hi, buddy," he whispers. She stares at him the whole time in complete awe. When he's done marveling over his kid, he takes her hand in his, and walks her to her locker. Right past Ben. He slams his locker shut and storms off in the other direction. Right past Adrian. She beadily watches them the whole time they walk down the hall, eyes narrowing when they pass directly in front of her. Right past Lauren and Madison, who watch in shock as the couple talk at her locker. Their mouths almost hit the floor when he kisses her lightly, then starts off for his own locker.

The two girls give each other incredulous looks before hurrying to their best friend's locker.

"What was that?" Madison asks loudly, causing the people who weren't looking before to stare at the three of them.

She gives Madison a look and continues throwing her books into her locker silently. Lauren sighs and shakes her head slightly.

"Look, Amy. We're sorry that we told, but it's over now. Everyone would have found out anyway. Can you please forgive us?"

She sighs after putting everything away. She grabs her things for her first period, then turns to face her former best friends.

"Yeah, I guess." Lauren smiles widely and Madison hops up and down excitedly.

"So tell us everything," she demands. "When did this happen?"

"Yeah," Lauren adds. "What happened to Ben?"

She rolls her eyes at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.

"Well, he dumped me. Because I did something I wasn't supposed to, but I don't really care now. In fact, I'm really happy that we broke up."

"I can see that," Lauren says playfully.

"What did you do?" Madison asks, looking as if she had to use the bathroom, the way she was hopping from foot-to-foot.

"Nothing, really. Ben just got jealous and we fought and we made up, but things…weren't really working out anyway, for the two of us. So we just sort of ended it together."

"I thought he was promising to marry you and give you a future."

"Yeah, well," she says distractedly, looking over their shoulders. "I have a new future now." They turn to follow her gaze and see a familiar person walking down the hall, back to them.

"How did _that_ happen, then?" Lauren asks, gesturing towards Ricky's retreating form.

"We just talked things through, and the both of us realized we had feelings for each other deep down." She lied through her teeth easily, the answers coming to her mind naturally. Her friends would by it, even if it didn't seem like the kind of thing she would do. But hey, the truth was more unlike her than her lie. And it sort of seemed like the truth – minus the bumps in the road and all of the guilt.

"Wow," Madison says. The bell rings and she says good-bye to the two of them, heading towards her first hour. The kids in her class kept staring, but she ignored them. As did the kids in her second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. But she went through the day tuning them out just like she did with her mother earlier. The only people she could really focus on were the teachers, Ricky, and Adrian. Not to mention the little baby kicking at her stomach as if it was on a kick dance line.

When the teacher excused the class, she took her time for gathering her things. She was procrastinating before she had to see her dad and sit in the car with him for a good ten minutes. She hadn't talked to him since Ashley had told her that he had cheated on Anne. At first she couldn't believe it, but as it sunk in, she felt betrayal and lied to. She couldn't even bear to see her father's face, and threw a fit when he tried to come home and apologize to Anne, Ashley, and her. Anne had thrown a couple of things, Ashley had cried silently at the kitchen table, and she had screamed and shrieked and kicked the wall and stormed to her bedroom. She wasn't exactly on good terms with her father.

She descends the stairs slowly, using the railing and taking her time with putting her foot carefully on each step. Lauren and Madison wait at her locker as she approaches it. They flash her big smiles, immediately causing her to be cautious and alert.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asks, spinning her locker dial. "Don't you guys have places to be?"

"Ballet is over for Christmas break," Lauren says simply.

"And I got kicked out of yearbook club," Madison adds, shrugging her shoulders indifferently. She and Lauren give Madison a look before rolling their eyes together.

"Okay, well my dad's picking me up, so as much as I'd love to sit and talk with you guys…"

"Wait, I thought your dad was on that business trip?" Lauren asks, her eyebrows coming together.

She sighs and turns towards the two of them. They were probably having a field day with all of the gossip she was giving them, and the last thing this town needed was more gossip.

"Nope. Turns out he was staying at some woman's house because my mom found out he was cheating on her with this woman. I think he's still living there, but I haven't talked to him in a while. The last time I did, I slammed the door in his face, but now my mom's making me get picked up by him. Which is weird, considering the fact that she had also slammed the door in his face the last time she saw him. I could walk home…"

"Oh, Amy. I'm so sorry," Madison starts.

"No, don't be. It's his fault and I'm glad he's gone. I couldn't even look at him, but I guess I have no choice now." She grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder, shutting her locker with a quick glance at the ultrasound.

"I have to go, but I guess I'll talk to you guys later?" Lauren and Madison nod fervently.

"Yeah, we'll text you."

She smiles at them briefly and nods, turning in the direction of the exit. She had already said good-bye to Ricky at lunch. He had said that his foster mom needed him immediately after school, and he had even considered bailing class half-way through seventh period to get home early. She guesses that he did leave during seventh period, and keeps her head down as she walks towards the exit. Having an angered Adrian on the loose without the protection of Ricky walking with her was making her feel exposed and vulnerable.

When she gets near Adrian's locker, she looks up at it to see if she's there. She is, but she's not alone. Ben stands in front of her, talking in a low voice with a serious look on his face. Her expression is light and teasing, but Adrian nods her head firmly, then looks around for anyone watching them. Amy turns around quickly, taking a few steps towards the nearest group of girls. She keeps her back to the two of them, ignoring the funny and pitying looks the small group of juniors gives her.

She waits for a moment until Ben passes right by her. She barely registers the look of triumph on his face. She peaks behind her shoulder to see if Adrian has left yet. She's just shutting her locker, and strutting around the corner after Ben. Curiosity getting the best of her, she follows Adrian, spotting her running her hand down someone's shoulder before she steps in front of them. She knows who Adrian's talking to.

She doesn't know whether to run to Ricky or not. She wants to save him from Adrian's perfectly manicured claws, but facing Adrian makes her stomach clench and churn. She can't hear what they're saying, but by the look on Adrian's face, she can tell that she's saying seductive words and obviously offering a wild night for him. This is an example of what she thinks could come between her and Ricky, and she can't help her heart from sinking. To her joyful surprise, she sees him shake his head and Adrian's face fall before it twists with anger.

She feels her heart rise again. Maybe he does really want to be with her if he declined a night with Adrian.

Two weeks ago, he would never have thought that he would say no to sex with Adrian. But here he was, shaking his head as soon as the words come out through her ridiculously lip-glossed lips. It was a reflex reaction, now that he has Amy. As soon as she asked him to come home with her, his mind went to Amy. To the kiss they shared last Thursday. To the many kisses they shared yesterday, and the ones that they shared today. She pouts briefly before her eyes narrow and she stares him down. He rolls his eyes and stuffs his hands into his pocket, completely relaxed.

What was her deal? They were done. D-O-N-E, _done_. He looks around, half-amused, half-exasperated. Couldn't she just let go of it? He was in love with Amy, and nothing could change that, not even if Adrian stripped down right in front of him and asked for him to take her. That suddenly didn't seem so appealing now.

He doesn't notice her surge forward, because he's too busy watching Ben. He had been just standing there against the wall, the smallest of smiles on his smug face, before his vision of him was obscured by Adrian's face smashing against his. Her lips attacked his furiously before he broke free of her grip. She looked at him crazily, smiling ferociously like a feline. She leaned in to kiss him again, but he ducked and stumbled into the middle of the hallway.

"What the hell is wrong with you? No means no!" he yells loudly. "Just stay away from me." He rolls his shoulders back and heads off towards the exit. His eyes lock with Ben's, and he stares him down until he's passed him and his eyes lock into someone else's. He comes to a sudden stop.

"Amy," he whispers.

**Sorry for the cliff-hangar. I just really wanted to do that Adrian thing, and I promise there will be more Adrian in there. I like Adrian and Ben together, so you'll hear about them often enough. Enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading!**

**TeamSwiss737**


	10. The Bonds of Love

**Alright, here's chapter 10. Wow, 10 already. I think I might cry. This is the longest story I've ever made, and I am so proud of it right now. Thank you to all of the people who have read and reviewed; you really mean a lot to me. **

**This chapter is sort of a song chapter. I was inspired by Bruno Mars singing 'Talking To The Moon' and thought that it kind of fit Ricky's perspective. And I also chose 'A Thousand Years' for Amy, though I am really liking 'Teenage Dream' for her, too. I don't know, just make sure you review for this chapter and give me your opinion on it.**

**Third person POV. Very, very, **_**very **_**AU. Don't forget that.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

She sucks in a deep breath as soon as his eyes find hers. It felt like the past few minutes were in fast-forward. In the blink of an eye, she saw Adrian's dark eyes look over Ricky's shoulders and come to a rest on her. Adrian smirked, her gaze flying over to Ricky, who was shaking his head dismissively and looking at Ben. It came to her suddenly, what Adrian was going to do.

This was it; no more Amy and Ricky.

She took a step forward, arm outstretched as if to reach Ricky, lips forming his name, before Adrian surged forward, slapping her full lips onto Ricky's. It was like a full-blown punch to the stomach. She gasps, and stumbles back, clutching the buttons on her blouse. Her baby jumped in her stomach, and she felt as if the room was spinning. Adrian…kissing…Ricky… No, it didn't make sense. But it did.

She exhaled heavily, barely hearing someone say, "What the hell's wrong with you? No means no!" She places an arm on the wall for support, her face crumpling. She looks up, expecting to see Ricky's and Adrian's faces glued together, but instead looks up to stare right into his eyes.

"Amy," he whispers.

Wait, what happened? Weren't he and Adrian just kissing? He takes a step towards her, and she looks at him crazily, her face full of hurt and betrayal, almost an exact replica of her face when she was told her father was cheating on Anne. Why wasn't he kissing Adrian?

"Why'd you stop?" she asks. It comes out in a small, strangled voice, and Ricky shakes his head.

"How much did you see?"

She exhales through her nose, breaking free of his gaze and looking at the floor, tears swimming in front of her eyes.

"All of it."

"Good. Then you know exactly what happened." Ricky's voice sounds relieved. He comes towards her, about to wrap his arms around her when she pushes him away.

"What are you doing? You should be hugging Adrian – not me," she says loudly. The whole hallway buzzed with excitement as they watched the two of them.

"What? I thought you saw the whole thing."

"I saw enough to know that you kissed Adrian!"

"First off,' he starts in a heated tone, "Adrian kissed me. Second, if you didn't see the whole thing, then you wouldn't know that I pushed her away as soon as she came after me. We kissed for barely a second before I told her we were done and to leave me alone."

She looks up at his face. He was clearly upset about this and kept throwing glances behind his shoulder at Adrian, who was close to angry tears and was talking with Ben. Relief floods through her as soon as she comprehends the truth. No, Ricky isn't kissing Adrian. He's standing in front of her. He wants to hug her.

"Oh," she says, her face smoothing out and voice coming out soft. "Sorry, I guess I was just too shocked to realize what was actually happening."

He takes in a deep breath and lets it out as his face relaxes. He gives her a small smirk.

"Yeah, I figured." She pushes off from the wall and walks towards him hesitantly until he closes the gap between the two of them and wraps his strong arms around her, keeping her protected from everything that could hurt her. She's his to hold and keep safe and love. He respects her independence, and her diversity, but will treat her with the love she deserves, even if she doesn't want it because of her independence and diversity.

They walk down the hall, his arm till wrapped around her, towards the exit. The students watch them, and see the love they seem to radiate when they're with each other. They think maybe Ricky Underwood really has changed. They think maybe Amy Juergens isn't screwed for life. They think maybe their lives will be okay.

But God only knows.

He kisses her good-by softly, once they reach the parking lot, giving her hand a squeeze and not letting go of it until their arms are outstretched too far and they have to let go. He stuffs his hands into his pockets once again, keeping his head bent as he makes his way to his car. He unlocks it and gets into it quickly, getting out of there as quickly as possible. Hopefully his mom wouldn't be too mad that he was late. He turns on the radio impulsively as he drives as fast and legal as possible, not really recognizing the song or the voice.

_I know you're somewhere out there  
Somewhere far away  
I want you back  
I want you back_

_My neighbors think I'm crazy  
But they don't understand  
You're all I had  
You're all I had_

_At night when the stars light up my room  
I sit by myself_

_Talking to the moon,  
Tryin' to get to you  
In hopes you're on the other side  
Talking to me too  
Or am I a fool  
Who sits alone  
Talking to the moon?_

His brow furrows as he turns it up. Was it really that coincidental that this song should be playing after what he and Amy have been going through the past few days? It almost scared him: he had stayed up one night in his living room, sitting near one of the front windows. The moon had been shining down on him and all he wanted to do was talk to her, so he talked to it instead. He even wondered if she was talking to the moon, too.

And then there was the line '_my neighbors think I'm crazy, but they don't understand'_; it was like the neighbors were his classmates, outsiders that would never understand the problems he was going through. He listens again closely to the next line of lyrics.

_I'm feeling like I'm famous  
The talk of the town  
They say I've gone mad  
Yeah, I've gone mad_

_But they don't know what I know  
'Cause when the sun goes down  
Someone's talking back  
Yeah, they're talking back  
Ohh_

_At night when the stars light up my room  
I sit by myself_

_Talking to the moon,  
Tryin' to get to you  
In hopes you're on the other side  
Talking to me too  
Or am I a fool  
Who sits alone  
Talking to the moon?_

It's like this song is about his life. All the words fit with what's going on: _'the talk of the town'_, _'I sit by myself, talking to the moon'_, and _'or am I a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon?'_

His head is still filled with song when he gets home. As soon as he walks through the door, Margaret smiles at him and puts him to work. She says something about a few kids coming through for the next couple of days, and he shrugs, not really listening. She pats his cheek before going into the kitchen. He cleans and prepares the other rooms in a daze, eyes often glazing over. He's distracted by that song for the rest of the day.

She spots her father's car not long after Ricky leaves. He's sitting in it, fiddling with his tie that he wore to work. When he sees her approach, his eyes light up and he smiles at her softly. She knows that he really does love her, but it's just hard to love him back, now. She tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. He ignores the way her face twists with it, and gestures for her to get in. She opens the passenger seat and slides into it slowly.

"Hey, kiddo," he says as if their last encounter didn't happen at all.

"Hi," she replies quietly. She sees him glance at her stomach, then shake his head before pulling out of the parking lot. It's silent for a moment, before George breaks it.

"I've got a great day planned for the two of us."

"What do you mean? I thought you were just dropping me off at home?"

"No. Didn't your mother tell you we're having a little father-daughter day?"

"Not at all."

He frowns as he watches the road. Determined to stay clear of the subject of him cheating on her mother, she plucks up enough courage to make small-talk with him.

"So, how's the business?" she asks, inquiring about George's furniture store.

"Fine. Sales are doing great, but lots of long hours."

"Mmm." Her lips purse into a thin line, reminding George of Anne. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Out. Maybe we'll get some ice cream or something."

"That sounds nice."

"Good. Ice cream it is."

The silence is too much for George to bear, so he turns the radio on, switching it to her favorite radio channel. The song is sweet and slow, but loud enough for the car's atmosphere to soften.

_Heart beats fast  
Colors and promises  
How to be brave  
How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?_

_But watching you stand alone,  
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow_

One step closer

_I have died every day waiting for you  
Darling don't be afraid  
I have loved you for a thousand years  
I'll love you for a thousand more_

She likes the song, having heard it a couple times before. She listens to the lyrics carefully, given the situation she's in, and almost gasps when they sink into her brain. The song is like what would have come out of her brain if she was a musical genius writing about how Ricky makes her feel. It's like the song starts when they were at the hospital together, when she discovers the budding feelings she had for Ricky at the sight of their baby.

Her hands move to her stomach instinctively and rub it, the silky fabric of the blouse gently caressing the stretched-out skin. She rests her head back and listens to the song again.

_Time stands still  
Beauty is all she is  
I will be brave  
I will not let anything take away  
What's standing in front of me  
Every breath  
Every hour has come to this_

_One step closer_

_I have died every day waiting for you  
Darling don't be afraid  
I have loved you for a thousand years  
I'll love you for a thousand more_

They get to the ice cream shop after two more songs and six more minutes of awkward silence. She listens to her dad and talks when she's supposed to, all while licking her double-chocolate chocolate chip ice cream cone. Her mind is somewhere else as she listens to her dad's apology with glazed eyes and an indifferent face. She hugs him robotically when he gets up from his side of the table. They finish their ice cream and go to one of her favorite restaurants. She laughs at the right places, she smiles at the right places. But it's all an act.

In a way, the song has helped her figure out some things that she was having trouble with. She has feelings in her that she couldn't identify earlier, but when she heard what the song is about, she knows now that she's been waiting for Ricky for a long time, now. It was one of those epiphany moments; the ones where it's like nothing is around you and you feel as if your mind and body are in a different world. And when it's over, she smiles so wide, her cheeks ache later from it.

She thinks they have that sort of love that's inevitable; the love that's only in the movies; the love that people are jealous of and will stop at nothing to have it, too. The kind of love that seeps into her very soul and puts a new light on things. She doesn't know that the tears are streaming down her face until her father has got up from his seat and wraps his arm around her.

"Why are you crying, Amy? Is it something I did?"

She shakes her head, laughing and crying at the same time.

"No," she whispers. "I'm just so happy." She laughs again, and after a few seconds, her father joins her. She places a hand to her belly and rubs it soothingly. For once, she likes the emotional roller-coaster she's on.

Her father drops her off at her house before he speeds down the road. She thinks it has something to do with the fairly-sized bruise he has above his left eyebrow. She walks up the driveway slowly, noticing her mom's car parked in it. She sighs, thinking of this morning's almost-argument with her mom about Ricky, and what she had let slip. She enters through the back door, coming into the kitchen.

"Mom…Ashley, I'm home." She shuts the back door and spins around to find her mother with her hand on her hips, staring her down.

"Hi, Mom. How was your day?" she says as sweetly as possible, taking her bag off of her shoulder and placing it on the kitchen table, ready to do some homework.

"Amy, don't avoid this. This is serious. I need to know what you're doing with that boy. I don't even remember his name and I haven't even met him, yet!"

"Um, I kind of have a lot of homework…" She trails off at the sight of her mother's face.

Anne groans and sits at the table next to her.

"Amy, please tell me what's going on between you and…"

"Ricky?"

"Yes, Ricky."

"What's there to say besides he's the father of my baby?"

Anne puts a hand to her forehead and lets her head rest on it.

"I don't know," Anne says sarcastically. "How about your relationship status with him?"

She looks away from her mother and focuses on turning to the correct page in her math book. Why must she have this conversation now?

"Can we talk about this later, Mom? I really need to do my homework since I was out all day. Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me I would be with dad all day!"

"Don't turn this on me, young lady," Anne threatens, a gleam shining in her eye. "I want to talk about your safety first."

"Safety? What about safety relates to mine and Ricky's relationship?"

"So you are in a relationship with him?"

"Mom!"

"Amy, just tell me…you used to tell me everything, and now I feel like you're pushing me away. I want to know who you date because I want them to feel welcomed. I don't want them to be scared off because your family is going through some tough times."

"You mean since our family is messed up," Ashley says, suddenly sneaking into the kitchen.

"Out!" Anne yells. Ashley rolls her eyes and trudges out of the room.

She remains silent, her lips sealed shut, staring at her math book.

"I know that since you're having a baby, getting a guy will be…a little harder than it would have been if you weren't pregnant at all. I know that you want to keep this baby now, and I completely support you, but it will have its consequences. But now that you have someone, I need to know so that I can help you stick with this guy for a long time. He may be the only one you get. No pressure to him, by the way."

She manages a small smile as Anne nudges her playfully. Her mother was just looking after her, that's all. And she does probably deserve to know that Ricky would be in her future a lot, whether if they were in a relationship or not.

"Thanks, Mom," she says quietly.

"No problem. Now, let's hear about Ricky…how did you…?"

She smiles. "Well, last Thursday, Ricky told me something really important. He said he wanted to be the father of his baby, like literally. He wants to help me take care of him…" Anne's jaw falls open.

"Are – are you sure? Can you even trust him?"

She nods her head fervently. "I'm getting to that part. So then, he and Ben got into this fight and I actually – uh, brought Ricky here because his fingers were all bloody and his nose was swollen, so I thought I should probably help him since my boyfriend was the one who started it. And he kind of…kissed me while I helped him." Anne raises her eyebrows but she continues quickly. "I promise that's all we did – one kiss."

"Didn't look like that to me," Ashley calls out from the hallway as she passed the kitchen entry. Amy ducks her head as her face heats up, but ignores the look her mom gives her.

"Anyway, when he left I broke up with Ben, then we got back together and I know I didn't do the right thing by getting back together with Ben. It was just because I felt guilty for cheating on him, and the worst part was I didn't even tell him. But then we ended it together because I told him I cheated on him and didn't regret it."

"Amy!"

"Just be patient here, please. And yesterday me and Ricky finally talked about the kiss and…I told him I loved him. I guess I still have feelings for him." She bites her lip, trying to hide the smile that begins to form on her mouth.

"And he was okay with this?"

She takes her time before answering, looking into her mom's eyes that were so much like her own.

"He told me her loved me back."

**Done. Hope you liked this chapter. I know it's a little shorter than the last one, but I'm gone for the weekend. Heading back to Essex! I really wanted to write a closured chapter before I left so you guys could leave the next one to your imagination. If you have any ideas, I would love to read them. Don't be afraid to ask what's happening next, too, because I could PM you and maybe give you a little sneak peak! **

**Have fun! Stay safe. Don't do drugs. Stay out of jail. Love you!**

**TeamSwiss737**


	11. It's Too Scary to Be Christmas

**Here's chapter 11. I hope you like this one. And to answer a question asked, I did not physically write that Ricky had told Margaret and Shakur about Amy. I was just assuming that he had earlier on, so yes, Margaret and Shakur do know about Amy. **

**Third person POV. Major AU.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

Sixth hour comes to an end, and the students rush out from their classrooms and flood the hallways. She gets caught up in it, getting pushed and shoved against other students. She gives out a moan when she's finally released from the crowd of rowdy sophomores. Her stomach has been doing somersaults ever since lunch ended. She felt as if she had caught a bug or something, realizing that it didn't feel like the usual morning sickness. She stoops to pick up the books that fell from her locker, bending over sharply, when a pain ripples up and down her spine.

She cries out, and drops the books that she picked up, clutching at the small of her back. What was going on? She had felt off all day. The girl standing at the locker next to hers shifts behind her.

"Are you okay?" she asks silently, coming around to face her.

She looks at the girl frantically and shakes her head as another wave of pain shoots through her back.

"I don't know," she gasps out. "I've never felt anything like this before."

"Do you think you need to go to the nurse? Or…a hospital, maybe?"

"I don't know! Uh…" She winces as the pain rolls through her repeatedly. "Do you think you can get someone for me?"

"Um, I don't know…" She cries out again and people start to stare. The girl jumps back as she sticks out her hand quickly to catch herself, taking in deep breaths. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong…

"Okay, I'll do it! Who do you want me to get?"

"Ricky-" she gasps. "Ricky Underwood."

The girl leaves quickly, and she feels her eyes sliding shut. Everything had been going fine yesterday. She even got her father back, despite their family's situation. Why did this have to happen? And now? Although her eyes were closed, the funny, tilting sensation washed through her pain-stricken body and caused her to fall into the lockers, and slide down them, only to collapse on the floor. The darkness behind her eyelids only got darker…

The sudden jump in the heart-rate monitor startled her awake. The dream had seemed so real, and it was no wonder why her heart had skipped a beat. She shakes her head momentarily, trying to rid her mind of the dizziness she felt. She felt so weak, so fragile. She's never felt like this before, and the feeling scares her. She hears the heart-rate monitor speed up along with her breathing.

A nurse comes bustling in, going straight to the heart-rate machine.

"You're okay," the nurse says while she twiddles the dials and presses a few buttons. No, she most certainly isn't okay. She's in a hospital with no memory of how she got there. Her back was killing her, and she felt as if something heavy was pressing on her stomach.

"W-what am I doing here? Where's my mom? Where's Ricky?" Her face pales. "Is – is my baby okay?"

The nurse doesn't say anything, but goes to the foot of her bed. She picks up a clipboard hanging by a string from the foot railing and scribbles something on it with a pen she extracted from her hair. The nurse mumbles to herself as Amy watches incredulously. What kind of nurses worked at this hospital? Weren't the nurses supposed to talk to the patients, not ignore them?

"Excuse me," she tries again. The nurse looks up at her, a frown on her face, but it evaporates quickly. "Could you tell me why I'm here, please?"

The nurse sighs deftly and writes one last thing on the clipboard before she lets it fall, making a soft _clanging_ sound as it hits the foot railing. She carefully steps over to the side of her bed, looking down at her with guarded eye like all nurses did. She fears for the worst: is her baby dead? She can feel the tears prickling her eyes before the nurse shakes her head quickly.

"No, no, no... Don't cry. Everything's fine, sweetie. Your baby is perfectly okay. The problem is more – er, you."

She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, seeing the tubes taped to the back of her wrist.

"What do you mean?"

The nurse smiles at her kindly for the first time and tucks back a lose hair from her ponytail.

"You'll find out everything once you've seen your family. They're waiting for you, you know. They've been here since two this afternoon; I bet they're exhausted right now."

"What time is it?"

"Around one in the morning. You've been unconscious for almost twelve hours." The nurse frowns again, scratching the back of her head. "I can let your family in if you want, unless you're still tired."

She shakes her head. "No, I'm ok- ah-ah!" The words are lost as she cries out, the pain in her back increasing. The nurse hurries forward, trying to keep her from arching her back. She yells and struggles to get her arms free of the nurse, trying desperately to touch her back.

"Ms. Juergens, calm down. You're okay! You're okay; it'll be over soon."

She writhes underneath the nurse, panting heavily, until the pain starts to recede slowly. When it's only a dull sharpness in the middle of her lower back, she stops struggling and lays motionless on the bed.

"Why does it hurt so much?" he whispers through tears and frozen lips. She hears the nurse sigh from the other side of the bed as she readjusts some things.

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you now, Ms. Juergens. This is something your parents would like to hear, too." She settles her in and leaves to get her family. She waits silently in the plain room, staring blankly at the beige walls. It takes a while for the nurse to come back, Anne close behind her with Ashley trailing in a few seconds later. For the first time in a long time, she sees the tears in Ashley eyes. She had been crying.

"Oh, Amy…" Anne starts, the tears coming down her face. She rushes up to her and throws her arms around her neck, careful to not put too much pressure on her.

"I was so scared when I got that call. I thought something terrible happened to you…" She gives a big sob and jerks herself away. "Sorry," she mumbles, wiping her eyes frantically. "I forgot you're hurt."

She smiles at her mom weakly. "It's okay," she croaks out, making tears form in Anne's eyes again. "I'm fine, I'm just waiting to find out what's wrong with me."

"I'd like to know that, too," Ashley says, walking over to her mom and eyeing the door as it swings shut after the nurse leaves.

"Yeah, that nurse wouldn't tell me until I saw you. She also said she needed a doctor, but I still don't get why she didn't tell me." Her voice is hoarse and she can barely talk. She feels as if she's been asleep for twelve days, not twelve hours.

"Maybe for moral support," Ashley mutters. Anne nudges her.

"Ashley…"

"No," Amy cuts in. "She might be right." She sighs and runs her fingers over the smooth blanket on top of her. "All I know is that it's something wrong with me; not the baby. She said that the baby was fine, it's just me that's…not."

"And she didn't say anything-"

Anne's words are cut off by someone entering the room, holding two coffee cups.

"Are we allowed in now? I got the coffee for you guys: both caffeine, just like you asked. Is Amy – Amy!" Ricky breathes softly, looking up from the coffee he's carrying. He walks over to the bed's side opposite Anne and Ashley, and sets down the cups. E quickly shoves his hands in his pockets, biting his lip ever so slightly.

"How are you?" he asks gently, gazing down at her with soft, loving eyes. They make a quick glance at her stomach, then lock into her hazel eyes again.

She smiles up at him as best as she can.

"Fine; my back hurts a little, and I can't remember why I'm here but, yeah, I'm okay." He smirks lightly at her and intertwines his fingers with hers when she reaches for his wrist weakly to take his hand out of his pocket so she can hold it.

"Did the doctor say what was wrong with you?"

"No," she sighs, looking at the door again. "All I know is that the baby's fine, but I'm not."

Ricky's smirk is replaced by a frown.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs as best as she can and winces a little. Anne sniffs loudly and Ashley watches her sister carefully. He holds her hand a little tighter, feeling as though if he let go, she'd disappear. Just by looking at her, you could see the fragile state she was in. he was grateful that the baby was doing okay, but if anything happened to her…

"Can someone tell me what happened? Does anyone know how I got here?"

"You blacked out," Anne said, "from some kind of pain. They didn't tell me what pain exactly."

"I bet you it's back pain," Amy mutters quietly. Her mother shoots her a worried look before exchanging one with him. Anne can see how torn he is just looking at her daughter. She understands now why Amy would love him: he's so passionate about the things he loves, that it's hard to resist reciprocating if you're one of the objects of his love. She knows he'll take care of her, until the day he dies.

"I was feeling a little off," she muses, shifting in her bed. "I really couldn't place what it was. It felt as if something was…moving…inside…" She trails off, a glazed look coming to her. "How could I be so stupid?" she whispers suddenly. "It was him moving inside all along." She looks down at the small lump sticking out in the sea of blanket. "I wonder if he hurt something while he moved." As she says it, a ripple of pain goes down her spine again.

She tenses up and he can feel her grip tighten. He can tell she's using a lot of her strength, but it still feels weak.

She pants once the pain passes, and the slightly-crazed look in her eye makes him want to cry. She's in so much pain. Because of him. He wouldn't blame it on the baby moving; that was a part of nature. But he was the one who put that baby in there.

He likes that baby a lot, but it's causing so much hurt.

The doctor enters with a light knock on the door. She smiles at the sight of Amy, then turns her attention to Anne.

"And you must be Anne Juergens, correct?"

"Yes. How is Amy?" She gets straight to the point because she can't stand seeing her daughter go through any more pain. Never would she be able to see both of her daughters go through so much pain. It kills her when she sees them hurt, either physically, mentally, or emotionally. She had already put them through pain by fighting with George, but why did they have to go through this, too? Why was God so against her family?

He appreciates Mrs. Juergens' drive to find out what was wrong with her daughter. He would've got down on his knees and begged the doctor to tell him what was wrong with Amy if she hadn't said anything. The doctor smile fades and she moves to the end of the bed, picking up the clipboard and writing something on it. When she's finished, she turns towards Amy.

"I'm afraid your baby has struck a nerve, Mrs. Underwood."

He did a double-take. Wait…what did she just say? 'Mrs. Underwood'? What? He must have been hearing things; the doctor most definitely didn't say 'Mrs. Underwood'. Not that he didn't mind, or anything…He shakes his head, earning a look from Amy. She seems unfazed however.

"What do you mean by that?"

"What I'm trying to say is that when your baby shifted, it managed to touch a nerve – a very sensitive nerve, too. In the end, you were very lucky. That baby could've paralyzed you if we hadn't moved it."

He exhales heavily, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He hears Anne and Ashley sighing, Anne fighting back tears, Ashley and Amy remaining silent. The doctor looks at everyone in the room until Amy speaks up.

"What do you mean by 'moved it'?" she asks slowly, hands going to the bump on her stomach.

"We just pressed on your stomach to get the baby to move, that's all."

"You didn't hurt the baby, did you?" he says angrily. Amy looks at him with wonder. Wow.

"No. The baby is perfectly fine."

"Good," he grunts, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

They're ushered from the room after talking for a while when he and Amy give a big, simultaneous yawn. He says good-bye to her, giving her a quick peck on the forehead while her mother isn't looking. She smiles up at him with tired and pained eyes. She had just been given drugs to sleep through the pain, but they still haven't kicked in yet.

"Bye, Ricky," she whispers, catching his hand and giving it a quick squeeze. He smiles back at her, and leaves first, Ashley, Anne, and the doctor following. He quickly says good-bye to Ashley and Anne, saying that it was a pleasure to meet them and too bad they had to meet this way. Anne looks flattered, but Ashley stares at him critically.

It's a long drive home for him. She has to stay in the hospital until Saturday, and he makes a plan in his head to visit her sometime tomorrow – or later in the day, since it's two in the morning. When he pulls up to his house, he sees the kitchen light on.

Shit. He forgot to tell Margaret and Shakur.

"Where have you been, Ricky?" Margaret asks quietly when he enters through the back door, trying to be as silent as possible. She's sitting at the little kitchen table, coffee cup held tightly between her hands.

"Oh, hey, Mom," he says brightly.

"Don't avoid this," she says threateningly, her voice rising. It's the first time she's ever really raised her voice at him, and he realizes just how scared she was. It wasn't that big of a problem, though. He has stayed out this late before.

"It's Amy," he says resignedly. "The baby moved inside of her and almost paralyzed her because it hit a nerve. I had to call 911 to get her to the hospital and I went with. I've been there since after sixth hour." He smiles at her sheepishly as he admits he skipped school, looking like a little boy caught in the act of coloring on the walls, even when he was told not to.

Margaret's face softens. "Oh, Ricky! Why didn't you call? Is she alright? Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah, they're both fine, but she has to stay there until Saturday, just to make sure the baby doesn't move again and touches the nerve that could paralyze her."

"Of course."

It's silent for a minute, until Margaret sighs. "Alright, I'll let you off the hook, but that doesn't mean you can ditch helping out with the new arrivals."

Oh, great. The new arrivals had come late afternoon yesterday. How could have he forgotten?

"I'm really sorry, Mom. I was just so worried…"

"I know. You love her, so it was good of you to stay. But just be ready to help tomorrow morning, and then you can go see her again." He smiles at his adoptive mother and kisses her cheek before heading down the stairs to his room. He flops down onto his bed, kicking off his shoes and sliding off his pants, throwing his jacket across the room. He's asleep within minutes, but his dreams are ones that he'll remember the next day.

**Short chapter. Sorry. I was on a roll earlier in this chapter and then I sort of hit a dead end. This was mostly Ricky's POV, so Amy's POV will be next. I'll also give a little more depth to her situation, and there will be some big physical Ramy stuff coming soon, so get ready! Haha.**

**TeamSwiss737**


	12. Author's Note

**He, guys. I come with a note, not another chapter. *sob***

**I am experiencing some major writer's block right now. I can't decide on anything for this story. I made it move to slow, so I decided to take a break. I've been thinking about this chapter for a long time but it's just not coming to me. I'm sorry to my fans. I know you'll hate me for this but I just need ideas! I'm stuck right now. I really want to get to the birth scene, where my story will end, but I'm a long ways from there, and I need things to pick up some speed. I need a time lapse, but I'm just having some trouble writing the time lapse. Please help!**

**TeamSwiss737**


	13. All is Well

**Okay, I just want to start off with how sorry I am for not writing. This chapter was just so hard to plot and type. I really want to have this finished. Like **_**really **_**want. I love this story, but I want to move on. I feel as if this has been holding me back, but now I have the solution. I'm thinking this will be the last chapter. So enjoy!**

**Third person POV. AU, I guess.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Life of the American Teenager.**

She opens her eyes after her flashback. It had seemed so real, right from the very beginning with the doctor's baby check-up that Ricky had come to with her. It's like she can feel everything she's felt from that point on. She stretches her legs to get rid of the kink in her thigh, the hospital blankets rustling around her. It's been four months since she's last been in a hospital bed, the last time being in one for her back. But this time is much different.

She hunches over her blown up stomach as another contraction waves through her body – and slowly. She cries out, causing her mother to rush into the room. Anne's hair sticks out at odd places, and there's a slightly frantic look in her eye. She quickly snags the wet cloth off of the bedside table and puts it to Amy's forehead.

"You're okay," Anne murmurs soothingly over Amy's moans, stroking her daughter's hair. "You're okay…it'll all be over soon."

Finally, Amy slumps back into the pillows, perspiration making her loose ponytail cling to the back of her neck. She groans and weakly uses her hand to swipe it away before massaging it.

"Sweetie, do you want me to do it?" Anne asks.

"No," Amy croaks out. "I'm fine. But I could really go for some food." She looks up at her mother hopefully, hazel eyes wide and pleading. Anne smiles down at her and nods, placing a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving for the cafeteria. Amy sighs, keeping her lips pursed tightly to keep from crying.

She's in so much pain, it's too hard to even think about. Her back aches, and the contractions beat her down every time they rack her body. And her heart hurts, too. Oh yeah, her heart definitely hurts.

Speak of her heart killing her, he walks into the room, big smile plastered on his big mouth, dark hair smoothed to perfection while her's probably looks like a bat's nest. And he looks freshly showered, too. That's probably where he's been for the past half-hour.

"I brought you food," he says, setting down a plastic bag onto the bedside table. You smile up at him sarcastically.

"Thanks," you say bitterly, "but my mom's already getting me some food, and I don't want to waste your money. You can have it."

He looks a little hurt, but she doesn't care. How many times does she have to tell him that she doesn't like him? She had cared for him, but ever since he visited by himself when she was in the hospital for back reposition, she's hated him, or at least strongly disliked him. No, she definitely hates him.

"Okay, well, is there anything I can get you?"

She turns her angered eyes up to the ceiling.

"Can you get me some peace and quiet?"

"Oh…uh, sure." He walks over to the door to leave, but takes one last look at her. "I'm sorry, Amy," he whispers before disappearing down the hall.

Groaning, she turns her face into the pillow. He was so clueless. How could he not see that she hates him, no matter what lies her dad feeds him? Him and her dad are why everything is the way it is now… sometimes she wishes for nothing to have happened from the very beginning.

He had been just about to leave when her father walked in.

"You're familiar," George started slowly. "Who are you?"

He reaches out to shake George's hand but lets it drop after George only looks pointedly at it. He grinds his teeth together once before answering, giving a quick glance in her direction.

"Ben Boykewhich. I used to date Amy. We've met before, sir."

Amy stared down Ben with hatred. His words still echoed in her mind; how dare he say things like that to her? How dare he talk about Ricky that way?

"Oh, yeah. I remember you; you're the Sausage King's son." There's a pause where George looks Ben up and down before he tilts his head to the side and puts his hands on his hips. "Wait, what do you mean 'used to date'? Aren't you two dating?"

"No," she cut in. "Me and Ben broke up on Monday, Dad."

"What? Why?" George demanded, ignoring the fact that Ben was standing silently next to him.

"Things just weren't working between the two of us."

"That's not a very good excuse."

"Well, what is a good excuse, then? Having the other cheat on them?" She blushed after the words fell heatedly from her mouth, throwing a frantic look at Ben. George looked ready to explode, but he inhaled deeply through his nose.

"That's no reason why the tow of you should break up. Did you want to break up with her?" George asked, turning towards Ben and putting his hand on his shoulder. Ben turned his head to look at Amy, and she shook her head no at him. Ben closed his eyes and faced George again.

"No," he said, barely louder than a whisper.

Amy's jaw fell open.

"Well, you guys aren't broken. There, I just solved you relationship problem."

"That's great, Dad. Too bad you can't solve your own, though," Amy said sarcastically, earning a glare from George.

"There's a problem, though, sir," Ben muttered darkly.

"And what's that?"

"Amy's already been seeing someone else." George took his hand away from Ben's shoulder and rounded on Amy.

"Is this true?" he demanded her, his voice loud. Amy winced, but nodded bravely.

"And you should know, Dad, that I love him. You don't want to break up more love, do you now?"

"Who is it?" George demanded, ignoring Amy's jab at him.

"No one, but he's going to be a big part of my baby's life as well as mine. So you're going to have to get used to him."

"Who is it?"

"It's Ricky Underwood, sir," Ben answered. George turned to him, eyebrow raised in confusion.

"What's so great about this Ricky?"

Ben's voice is strained excitement, and his words barely come out louder than a whisper. "He's the father."

It was like a show of colors, seeing George's face go from red, to purple, to green, to blue, back to purple, then to white, then back to red. He sputtered and threw out incoherent words, hands shaking and pointing in random directions. Finally, he exploded.

"You are not to see that boy ever again, young lady! Do you understand? He has caused nothing but trouble, and I don't want him near my family or your growing one. Got it?"

Amy's eyes flashed and she sat up in her bed straighter.

"You listen here, Dad. If you had been around for the past two weeks, you would know what happened, and you would understand – like mom – that Ricky isn't going away. He has as much possession over this baby as I do. He's the father! You can't do anything about that."

"I can do something about you loving him! It's a scam just because for some wild reason he wants to get closer to the baby. He's deceiving you because if he had never said he loved you, you wouldn't have let him in." George's face was a bright red, and spit flew from his mouth with each word.

"He's not, Dad. He really means it this time. You wouldn't understand, though, because you obviously don't know what love is!"

"No, I do understand. And I understand that this is all some trick. I've heard rumors about the father of your baby, not his name in particular, but bad, bad rumors. And I don't want you interacting with him. He may be around for your baby, but that's as close as he's going to get in this family. You are never to see him again, got it?"

"But, Dad –"

"No 'but's. Wren here is perfect for you –"

"It's uh, Ben," Ben cut in.

"And he can take care of you better than that Ricky ever will." He turned to face Ben. "You will take care of her, right?"

"On my life, sir."

"Dad! Stop-"

"Enough, Amy! You may be turning into a mother soon, but I'm still your father and your legal guardian until you're 18. So until then, your mother and I have control over you."

"But mom's okay with Ricky! She's met him and she's likes him, too!"

"I don't care. I'm your father, and I have that decision over you." George took one last look at Amy before hurrying out of the room, leaving a shocked Ben and an enraged daughter to themselves.

"Amy, I'm-"

"Don't even, Ben. I don't want to hear it. You just ruined everything!" She looked at Ben through her tears before giving a loud sob and covering her face with her hands. She heard Ben leave a moment later, and sobbed even louder.

All Christmas break she cried and talked with her mom and argued with her dad. She knew she wasn't going to follow the rules and be with Ricky anyway, but there was no way to do it when her dad suddenly took an interest of eating dinner every night with her, Ashley, and Anne. He had been suddenly everywhere, always monitoring what she did and who she talked to. When school started, he picked her up and dropped her off, making sure she didn't have time to sit around and talk with people.

She always found time to talk with Ricky, though. She told him what happened at the hospital, and he got angry. He promised he would hurt Ben for her, but she told him it wouldn't solve anything. She told him that they would just have to work something out until the baby came, because when the baby came, Amy promised that George would just have to deal with Rick being around and get used to the fact that his daughter was madly in love with him, and vice versa. And he would just have to get used to the fact that he couldn't control her.

It seemed like a good idea – until George made a little trip to Ricky's work. She didn't get very many details since Ricky wouldn't talk to her and George wouldn't talk to her, either. All she knew was that George threatened Ricky, and insulted him in the place where she knew hurts him the most. In the hallways or in band practice, she could always feel his eyes on her, and when she'd turn around, they'd stare at each other until Ricky would duck his head and leave in the opposite direction.

At home, George had told Amy that Ricky was allowed custody, but the baby would be handed to him by either Anne or George, not Amy. At school, Amy confronted Ricky about this, but he only looked at her sadly, causing tears to well up in her eyes and for her to fly to the bathroom before anyone saw her cry. He wouldn't talk to her, no matter how much she tried.

"Amy?" She's snapped out of her second flashback as Anne walks in – but she's not alone. Ricky tags along quietly behind her. It's the only exception to the whole 'never again will you two see or talk to each other' promise that George made; Ricky is allowed to be with Amy when their baby comes. They still don't know what the gender is, but Amy decided at her last doctor's appointment – which she went to only with her mother – that Ricky should be able to be there when they find out.

"I got you your food," she says quietly, shooting a quick look over her shoulder at Ricky, who leans against the wall next to the door. Amy stares him down until he looks up. She beams at him, but he only gives her a weak smile. Anger bubbles up inside of her at whatever her father said that made Ricky so upset. Ricky never deserved it.

But she can't say anything. She can't comfort him, because then her father would only get mad and that would be the last straw. Amy knows her father dangles a knife over Ricky's neck, the knife being an analogy for not allowing Ricky to get any part of the baby. As the mother, Amy has the opportunity to just keep the baby for herself. Ricky could go to court, but seeing the hurt in his eyes every time they locked eyes in the hallway, she knows that he wouldn't do that to her. He would back off quietly.

In George's eyes, if Ricky made any sort of move to be closer to Amy, he'd pull the plug and Ricky would never get to see his child. And to him, George's word was law.

So all that can come out of her mouth is a simple, "Thanks, Mom."

~SLAT~

"Mom, it hurts so much," she cries out, crushing her mother's fingers with her own.

"I know, Amy, I know. You'll be okay."

"You're almost there, sweetie," the OBGYN calls out from in-between Amy's legs. "You're doing great! She's done dilating…alright, Amy, I want you to push as hard as you can. Can you do that for me?"

Amy groans, her head falling back onto the pillows.

"Okay, on the count of three, you're gonna push. Ready? One…two…three!"

Amy screams and pushes as hard as she can, sweat and tears pouring down her face. Anne hurriedly ties Amy's hair into a tighter ponytail as Amy relaxes.

"Okay," the OBGYN says. "You're going to have to push one more time. On the count of three! One…two…three!"

She cries out again as the pain wracks through her body over and over. Anne strokes her daughter's hair too fast to be comforting, and over in the corner, head in arms against the wall, Ricky shifts uncomfortably. Hearing Amy in pain makes him want to rip his heart out and claw at his eyes. His fault. His fault. All his fault.

Finally, the OBGYN gives a small laugh.

"And here he comes…welcome to the world, little one!" Ricky lifts his head from the wall to see the OBGYN holding something small, pink, and fragile looking. Blood covers the tiny baby, and it's screams echo throughout the room.

"It's a girl," the OBGYN says loudly over the baby's screams, handing her to a nurse.

A blanket is wrapped quickly around the baby, gently scrubbing her clean before it's carried reverently over to Amy. Ricky takes a step forward…That's his kid right there. That's his little girl. A girl. That's his baby girl.

He doesn't realize he's standing over Amy and his baby until she looks up at him, happy tears in her eyes. Her smile is weak, but genuine and he feels the love it radiates. His eyes move from her beaming face to the tiny baby sitting in her arms. Is she even real, this little thing that he helped make? She's so beautiful, and delicate, even if her screams pierce his ears. He doesn't care. That's his little girl.

That's _their_ little girl.

And before he can stop himself, he bends down, capturing Amy's lips with his own.

~SLAT~

_Three months later…_

"Ricky, do you know where Arianna's rattle is?" Amy asks frantically, throwing up the pillows from the living room couch to look under. Ricky, laying on his stomach next to little Arianna while she squirms and kicks happily on her back, smiles adoringly at his daughter.

"It's in your bed. Remember when she slept there with us?"

Amy snaps her fingers. "Right." She bends over to ruffle Ricky's hair before hurrying off to her bedroom. She pulls the covers down and true to Ricky's words, the yellow monkey rattle sits at the bottom of her bed. She grabs it, hastily throwing her covers back on, and goes back into the living room. She lies down on her stomach next to Ricky, watching their baby with excessive love like he is.

She raises the rattle above Arianna's beautiful and delicate face, causing Arianna's hazel eyes to go wide with interest. Ricky and Amy laugh at the baby's expression, and Amy shakes it gently. The baby's chubby arms reach up weakly for it as Amy shakes it again.

"She's a music lover," Amy jokes.

"Of course she is," Ricky says playfully, smiling up at his girlfriend. Except the diamond ring he has sitting in his backpack says otherwise.

After a few happy moments of playing with the rattle, Arianna gives a yawn, eyes sliding shut. Ricky pushes himself off of the floor and scoops her up in his arms. Amy stands up and follows him into her bedroom, where Arianna's cradle sits next to her bed. Ricky leans into the cradle to put Arianna in, and Amy leans over the edge of the other side to watch him tuck her in. When he leans back, they only sit and watch their baby as she drifts off to sleep, unaware that she's got her mother crying happy tears every time her mother sees her, or that she's got her father wrapped around her little finger.

Amy sighs, looking over the cradle at Ricky. He looks back at her, smiling slightly, before gently taking her face into his hands, and crushing his lips to hers gently.

For once in his life, all is well. And who would've known it would stay like that for the rest of his life.

**The End. :]**

**Enjoy!**

**TeamSwiss737**


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